


Want You to Know Who I Am

by Moons_of_Avalon



Category: Captain America (Movies), Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alpha Brock Rumlow, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, Aromantic Jack Rollins, Body Dysphoria, Crossover Pairings, Depression, Discussions of Gender Identity, Dubious Consent, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Abortion, M/M, Male Lactation, Maori Jack Rollins, Minor Maria Hill/Natasha Romanov, Mpreg, Omega Jefferson, Past Domestic Violence, Past Sexual Assault, Soul Bond
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-02
Updated: 2017-01-03
Packaged: 2018-05-04 12:14:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 166,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5333738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moons_of_Avalon/pseuds/Moons_of_Avalon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sweet like sugar and flowers, warm like coffee and cinnamon, raw like sex and blood. It sends him reeling as he searches for the source. He finds it in a soft hand on his shoulder, turning him around, until he’s looking into the face of an omega...</p><p>Brock Rumlow is an alpha, and a confirmed bachelor. Or at least, so he believes until one night, when he happens to cross paths a mysterious omega, named Jefferson. He sets out to work his way into this beauty's life, but when both their walls start coming down, it's more than they ever bargained for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to this pipedream of mine...if you even just click on this, I already love you
> 
> Alpha/Beta/Omega basics as I interpret them: alphas experience rut, omega's experience heat (both are peaks in their fertility cycles); alpha males produces knots during their rut, or when very aroused (i.e. it won't happen with every orgasm); alpha females and omega males are intersex, possessing both typically male and typically female biology; betas do not experience fertility cycles, separating them from alphas and omegas
> 
> Dubious consent is only because of complications related to heat cycles
> 
> Tags, characters, relationships are subject to change as I figure out exactly how this all is going to play out, though Brock and Jefferson will be the main focus

“The usual, I presume?” Natasha smiles at Brock and slides him a scotch, which he raises in a toast to her before taking a drink, flashing a contented smirk as he eases down onto one of the barstools.

“You’re too good to me,” he chuckles, relishing the burn of the liquor in his throat. He’s been on his feet all night, fending off rowdy teenagers and wasted suburban couples. But working as a bouncer does come with perks. Nat just rolls her eyes at him.

“You’re right, I am. That one’s on me,” she winks before heading down the bar to an already drunk couple who’s been trying to flag her down. Brock shakes his head, taking another drink and glancing around. The smell of stale alcohol and sweat hangs in the air, and the floors, as always, are sticky with something, or more specifically, _everything_ …but it’s a few rungs above you’re average hole-in-the-wall. Not a terrible place to have to spend your evenings. Just well put together enough, just rough enough around the edges. And the pay isn’t bad either.

“You reek.” Brock glances over his shoulder at that voice and snorts when he catches sight of Jack in his periphery. His old military buddy drops down onto the stool next to him, leaning back with his elbows on the bar. 

“Well excuse me if I’ve had a job to do,” he replies. “You know, work instead of play.”

“Work isn’t why you reek.” Jack’s grin tugs at the scar on his jaw and he wrinkles his nose for show, pretending to sniff at Brock to catch the scent of his rut. “Smells like you need to do a little more playing to burn that shit off.”

“It’ll burn itself off in a few days, until then you can fuck off if it bothers you so much,” Brock mutters, running a hand through his dark hair to coax it back into place. Sure, maybe his instincts are making him feel a little more on edge than usual, a little more alive, but that’s hardly something to complain about. “Not that it’s ever bothered you before.”

“Desperate times don’t count,” Jack shrugs, smiling when Natasha passes by again, handing him a beer.

“Jack’s right, you know,” she chimes in, shrugging one shoulder. “ _I_ can smell you, so I can only imagine what he must be catching wind of.”

“Oh _thanks_ ,” Brock drawls as Jack laughs. He rolls his eyes, fidgeting with the cuff of his old black jacket when he sees that some of the scars on his wrist are peeking out.

“Really, I don’t know why you make yourself suffer,” Jack mutters, taking a swig of his beer.

“Who says I’m suffering?”

“I think you’re forgetting who you’re talking to,” Jack rolls his eyes. “I’m not some beta who’s never gone through it before.” That earns him a warning glance from Brock, which he shrugs off. “I know what rut feels like. There’s no reason to ignore it when you could have anybody in this place.”

“Well not all of us are knotheads like you,” Brock scoffs. “I’m waiting for the best opportunity to present itself.” He pauses and grins. “Makes me better at my job anyway. If somebody decides to start something, I’m more than ready to take them.”

“If by take them you mean fuck them into the nearest wall, yeah, I bet you are.”

“Remind me again why I tolerate you?”

“Because I’m one of maybe a handful of people on the planet who could tolerate you?” 

Brock has to laugh at that, if only because it’s probably true. “Right, of course,” he mutters, downing the rest of his drink and nodding at Natasha to get him another. It’s beginning to feel like one of those nights.

The hours pass and soon enough Brock’s nicely buzzed, glancing around the bar at the people talking, dancing, and drinking. Taking somebody home with him is starting to sound more and more tempting, but no one’s caught his eye so far. 

And of course, that’s when the scent hits him. Sweet like sugar and flowers, warm like coffee and cinnamon, raw like sex and blood. It sends him reeling, fighting down the kind of hard-on he hasn’t had since he was a teenager as he searches for the source. He finds it in a soft hand on his shoulder, turning him around, until he’s looking into the face of an omega. A gorgeous omega, with dark waves framing his face, curling just under his sharp cheekbones and falling into his big, grey eyes. Fucking gorgeous.

“Hey, beautiful,” Brock purrs before he even has a chance to think about what he’s saying. Those few drinks he’s had are thrumming in his veins now, right along side a dangerous surge of hormones. Maybe he should’ve known better than to come out and start drinking when his rut is in full swing…but hell, this omega certainly isn’t helping when he’s dripping with the scent of heat. If he’s really been waiting for the best opportunity, this is probably it.

“Hi,” the omega replies, plump pink lips gliding deliciously around a smooth voice before curling into a funny little smile. “Would you dance with me?”

If any other person on any other day had asked Brock that same question, they would’ve gotten a loud, emphatic, _hell fucking no_. Brock Rumlow may work in a nightclub, but he doesn’t dance. But this isn’t just any person, and this clearly isn’t just any day, because in seconds, he’s finding himself being tugged onto the dancefloor, casting a glance over his shoulder at Jack, who’s watching him with a very accusatory, cocked eyebrow. Fuck him, he’s just jealous, Brock smirks to himself.

Then all thoughts of anybody else are gone because this omega is pressed against him, arms slipped casually around Brock’s neck as he moves with the pounding beat of the music. If you can call the shit they play here music, that is, though Brock’s not one to judge since he can barely hear his own thoughts over the sound of blood pumping in his ears. He may not dance, but he can fuck, and it feels a hell of a lot like this omega is trying for the latter as opposed to the former, especially as he turns around and presses his ass into Brock’s crotch, starting to grind against him. Brock takes hold of the omega’s hip with one hand, and let’s his other arm slide up to lock across his slim chest. His partner doesn’t protest. In fact, Brock swears he catches the faintest moan as that head of dark curls tips back to rest on his shoulder, and those pretty, soft hands find purchase on his forearm: hanging, gripping, but definitely not pulling away.

“What’s your name, sweetheart?” Brock murmurs, nudging his lips against the omega’s ear.

“Jefferson.”

“That your first name or your last?” Brock chuckles.

“Why’s it matter?”

“‘Cause I wanna know what I’m supposed to call you.”

“I just told you what to call me.” Jefferson tips his head back further and Brock catches a glimpse of his amused expression in the flash of a strobe light. Cocky. Brock smirks.

“Well if you insist, Jefferson.” The omega smiles slightly before Brock loses sight of his face as he leans closer, lips gliding against Brock’s jaw.

“What should I call you, Alpha?” he purrs and Brock has to let himself groan.

“Fucking hell…Alpha’s got a pretty nice ring to it,” he laughs. “Name’s Brock.” 

Jefferson hums, Brock assumes that’s a sound of agreement, maybe approval, but they both fall silent after that. They’re moving together now, bodies rocking and undulating to no rhythm but their own, the rest of the world around them forgotten. Brock swears Jefferson’s scent is getting stronger, but maybe he’s just stopped noticing anything else, drowning himself in the sweetness that has his body vibrating and his cock throbbing. He doesn’t even realize he’s growling low under his breath until he hears the soft mewling coming from Jefferson, the perfect call and response between an alpha and omega.

When he leans to put his lips to Jefferson’s throat, he’s annoyed to find that his mouth collides with fabric, a scarf or something. Jefferson must be able to sense his frustration because his head tips to expose more of his neck, which Brock doesn’t hesitate to brush his teeth against.

“No biting.” Brock raises an eyebrow at that, but pulls back, nuzzling into Jefferson’s hair instead.

“You’re gonna present your neck like that, then tell me I can’t bite down on what you’ve offered me?”

“Yeah, I am.” Brock has to laugh and when he leans back he’s sees that funny little smile on Jefferson’s lips again. The omega turns to look at him, a playful glint in his eyes. “Hope that’s not a problem.”

“I’ll survive,” Brock shrugs, glancing down to watch Jefferson’s tongue dart out to wet his lips. “You also gonna tell me I can’t kiss you?”

Jefferson shakes his head, leaning forward so Brock can feel the omega’s breath on his lips. “Where’s the fun if you won’t kiss me?”

Brock doesn’t need any further encouragement, and his grip on the omega tightens as he presses their mouths together, a growl resonating deep in his chest as he drinks in Jefferson’s pretty moans. The omega kisses like a dream, like a fantasy: warm and soft and sweet with a sharp edge of wanting; passion deep enough, powerful enough, to drain you dry then swallow you whole. Brock’s almost afraid to open his eyes because he might wake up alone. 

“Take me home with you?” The question is too shy, too gentle against Brock’s lips, and now Jefferson’s the one gripping tighter to him. 

“How can you even need to ask?” Brock mutters, and he swears he hears a little breathless laugh before he steals another kiss from that endless mouth.

A chill hits them when they stumble outside, but Brock barely notices because of how Jefferson insists on pressing against him, burning with his heat. The omega’s whimpering a little now, and his scent is stronger, to the point that Brock’s dizzy with it as he fights to get his car unlocked. He knows he’s not fit to drive with the alcohol and adrenaline pumping through him, but like hell is he waiting around for a cab. Before he knows it, they’re pulling up in front of his apartment and he has no idea how he got them there or how many traffic laws he had to break to do it, but he doesn’t care because Jefferson’s reaching for him like he’s about to climb into the driver’s seat if Brock doesn’t touch him soon.

“Baby, at least let me get you inside,” Brock laughs, unbuckling Jefferson’s seatbelt for him, since the omega seems otherwise occupied with yanking on his jacket, and pushes the passengerside door open.

“I need it, I’m sorry,” Jefferson’s mumbling, nipping at Brock’s neck and ignoring the now open door. “I’m on my heat…”

“Trust me, I know,” Brock groans, nuzzling into Jefferson’s neck before pulling back to get out of the car. “Come on, I just need you inside. I’ll take care of you.” With that incentive, Jefferson’s scrambling out of his seat and Brock catches him with a laugh when the omega launches at him. And then they’re kissing again and it’s like they can’t stop. Needy, breathless, burning… Brock’s got one arm around Jefferson and his tongue down the omega’s throat as he punches in the door code, and then he’s scooping Jefferson up in his arms once they’re in the elevator. He just barely manages to hit the button for his floor before shoving Jefferson against the wall and sucking the omega’s perfect, full bottom lip between his teeth. Jefferson’s grinding against him again, his whines high and pleading as his arms and legs lock around Brock’s body. God help anybody else who’s trying to take the elevator. They’re either getting a show, or waiting for the next one. Hell, let them watch, let the whole building know that Brock’s got the prettiest omega in the damn city in his fucking bed.

It’s a miracle that Brock manages to get the door to his apartment unlocked while Jefferson’s whimpering in his ear, but manage it he does, and as soon as they’re inside he makes it as far as the kitchen before dumping Jefferson down on the nearest flat surface, which just so happens to be the kitchen table.

“Fuck, let me breathe for a second,” he mutters, running one hand through his hair as he pins Jefferson down with the other. The omega’s still writhing, trying to push closer to Brock, his face screwed up into an expression that could be either pleasure or pain.

“Come on, please!” he moans, reaching up to grab Brock’s jacket again, trying to drag him closer. It’s only now that Brock notices that Jefferson’s shaking, literally shaking like a leaf from head to toe, and burning hot. 

“Are you sure you’re ok?” he mutters, keeping Jefferson pinned as he looks him over. The omega nods quickly, no hesitation.

“Yeah! Yeah I promise it’s normal,” he whines, arching up against the strong grip keeping him pinned. “I just need a knot, please… _fuck_ I need your knot, Alpha.”

Brock can’t help but groan, closing his eyes for a moment as he lets this desire wash over him, but doesn’t give into it. He’s never been with an omega in heat before, for all he knows this _is_ normal. And his body is screaming at him not to fight this… But that doesn’t mean he can be an idiot about it.

A weak sob from Jefferson pulls Brock out of his thoughts, and he just about loses it when he sees the wetness welling up in the omega’s eyes. “Please…” Jefferson whispers. The desperation in his voice is different now, tinged with a fear of rejection. “I’m already here, come on…” 

Brock isn’t usually the kind of alpha to be ruled by his knot, but there’s something deep in the pit of his stomach that’s not going to let him ignore this omega. How could anybody turn away from this? When Jefferson pushes up against his grip again, he allows it, gathering him up into his arms and heading for his bedroom. Jefferson’s not a little person, in fact he’s tall for an omega, but slender, with a delicacy to him, so that he seems nearly weightless in Brock’s arms. Though maybe Brock’s just too high on endorphins and hormones to notice the strain of carrying him. 

“I’ve got you,” he purrs as he lays Jefferson down on the edge of the bed so he can stand over him, smiling at the omega’s happy little moan. That moment to breathe did him good, and even though he’s still overwhelmed by the scent and sight of the omega beneath him, he’s thinking a little more clearly.

“Stay still,” he orders, and immediately Jefferson obeys, aside from the heaving of his chest as he watches Brock’s every move. Responsive… The possibilities make Brock’s arousal jolt as he begins to undress Jefferson, pulling off that scarf, then starting to unbutton his shirt. There’s a moment of pause when he notices a line of scarring along the side of Jefferson’s throat, before the omega tips his head to hide the marred skin from sight. Brock shakes his head, leaning back, and shrugging off his own jacket. As soon as Jefferson sees the burn scars that go up his right arm, angry red twisting and climbing across his body, the omega’s eyes go wide and he sits up, one of those soft hands raising to move across the rough skin. Brock takes the opportunity to run his fingers through Jefferson’s hair, tugging the curls so that the omega moans softly and looks up at him. 

“Don’t hide from me,” he murmurs, and Jefferson nods, shrugging off his shirt and tossing it onto the floor. Aside from the scars on his neck, he’s unmarked: all smooth, pale skin. Brock chuckles, trailing his fingertips down Jefferson’s chest and watching as the omega’s eyes glaze over and he trembles again. So needy…

Brock pulls his t-shirt over his head, watching for a reaction as more of his scarring is revealed. Jefferson’s staring, but he doesn’t flinch. His eyes follow the trails from where fire crept across Brock’s skin, curling across the right half of his chest and back, stopping at his hip , with just a few tendrils snaking up towards his neck. Brock swears he feels the same heat again. He’s not prepared for it when Jefferson leans forward to press his lips to Brock’s stomach, and sucks in a breath as he looks down only to be met with grey eyes glancing up at him as pink lips pass over his scars. Those eyes are unfocused again, and Brock smirks to himself when he catches Jefferson’s scent blossoming.

“You like that?” he purrs, nudging the omega’s legs apart so he can kneel between them. He leans closer, guiding Jefferson back down against the bed until he’s got him pressed into the mattress. “Like your alphas to have battlescars?”

Jefferson’s breath catches in a little gasp and he nods, his whole body going lax as Brock presses closer, and he moans when lips make contact with his neck. This time he doesn’t protest when Brock’s teeth find purchase on his collarbone, with just enough pressure to leave a red mark behind. Nor does he protest when more little red marks begin to bloom across his torso as Brock works across his chest and down to his belly, where there’s a perfect little bit of omega softness, tasting his heatscent where it glows on his skin. 

“Please…” the omega’s begun to whisper, the word tumbling out over and over. No longer desperate and grasping, just waiting for his chosen alpha to provide what he needs. Brock’s in no mood to keep him waiting very long, and pulls off his remaining clothes before doing to same for the omega.

Jefferson’s thighs are glistening with his own slick, his scent so thick and rich in the air, Brock swears he’s getting drunk on it, a growl ripping out of him loud enough to make Jefferson cry out softly in response. One look at his face tells Brock the omega’s very nearly beyond words. His lips, now bitten red, have fallen open, perfectly rounded, and his blown-black eyes are barely staying open to stare at Brock. He’s trembling again too, each heavy breath coming out as a little moan while a pink blush creeps across his neck and chest, nearly down to where his thighs meet and his hard cock presses up against his stomach. He’s a work of art, really, and Brock can’t wait to see just how he can ruin him. 

“Turn over onto your front,” he orders, and Jefferson whimpers softly as he obeys, laying flat on his stomach and shifting his hips as he watches Brock grabs a condom from the drawer and crawls closer to him on the bed to straddle the omega’s hips, smirking at how Jefferson presses back, eager to present himself. “Good boy,” Brock murmurs, pressing a kiss to Jefferson’s shoulder as he spreads the omega open, rubbing two fingers against his slick and pliant entrance. “Do I need to prep you, or are you all ready for me?”

“R-ready,” Jefferson forces out, pressing back against Brock’s fingers and whimpering when Brock refuses to push into his body. “ _Fuck_ , I’m ready, please!”

“Please what?”

In spite of it all, Jefferson finds it in him to flash Brock an annoyed look, though it doesn’t last long, especially not once Brock starts rubbing his hole again. “Please fuck me,” he moans, his hands digging into the bedsheets. “Please, Alpha…”

Brock groans deeply, nipping at Jefferson’s shoulder and pulling his hand back so he can roll the condom on. No taking chances with an omega in heat. “Anything you want, beautiful…”

Pressing into Jefferson’s body is unlike anything he’s ever felt before. He has to stop himself after just a few seconds because he knows he’s going to lose control. Jefferson protests, crying out high and long, trying to press back for more, and whimpering when Brock pins him down, pressing his chest to the omega’s back. 

“Relax, baby,” he purrs, letting his eyes close for a moment as he forces himself to breathe. He gets it now, why people rave about being with an omega in heat. Hot, tight, slick, and, _fuck_ , the scent rolling off of Jefferson’s skin. Sex and heat and that sweetness that Brock’s just dying to take a bite out of. It’s all too much and not enough. He needs more before he loses his mind.

“Brock, please…” Brock opens his eyes at hearing Jefferson use his name for the first time, sliding his arms under the omega’s body to press him closer. “Alpha, please…!”

It’s enough to make Brock snap. His hips jerk forward into Jefferson’s body and the omega cries out. Once he starts he can’t seem to stop, thrusting hard and fast enough to jolt the bed and pulling sounds from Jefferson that just seem to keep getting louder and louder. 

“My neighbors are gonna hate me,” Brock smirks, but Jefferson doesn’t respond, just keeps making those sounds that are driving Brock insane. When Brock brushes the omega’s hair back to see his face, he realizes why. Jefferson’s completely heatdrunk, operating only on instinct and pleasure, his eyes glazed over and unfocused, lost for words, his body soft. He’s not even gripping onto the bed anymore, just laying flat and letting Brock hold him, move him anyway he pleases. It’s easily the most arousing thing he’s ever seen, but out of nowhere it hits him hard that this is someone he barely knows. How crazy do you have to be to let a stranger take you like this…?

He rolls onto his side, and Jefferson lets himself be pulled along, giving no indication that he’s even aware of the shift. But he does react when Brock starts nipping at his neck, his moans raising to a sound that borders on a squeal. “You like that, huh?” Brock purrs before latching his mouth just under Jefferson’s ear and sucking a mark there until the omega shrieks and his body goes tense as his orgasm hits him without warning. Brock groans loudly when Jefferson tightens around him and more slick pushes out from his already dripping body before he falls limp again with a soft, pitchy sound. When he rolls his head back to look up at Brock, he doesn’t hesitate to kiss those bright red lips that readily fall open to accept his tongue. 

Brock digs his nails into Jefferson’s hips when he feels his knot begin to swell, and Jefferson whines again, nodding eagerly as he rolls his hips back to meet the alpha’s thrusts. Brock has to grin, even as heat begins to rush through his body. How the fuck did he get lucky enough for this omega to pick him out of the crowd…

When his knot finally pushes into the omega, it’s easily the best climax of his life. He feels it in every part of his body, white hot, ripping a growl out of his chest that he swears shakes the bed. Jefferson gasps, but his body doesn’t fight the stretch as Brock rocks deep inside him, riding out his release. They’re locked together now, won’t be moving for quite a while, though Brock can’t imagine pulling away from this perfect body.

When he finally opens his eyes, he’s not sure how long it’s been, but it still feels like his orgasm is working through him from the way Jefferson’s entrance is tight around him. The condom’s an annoying barrier, but unavoidable at this point, so he tries to ignore it, brushing Jefferson’s hair back from his face as he pulls the warm body close against his own. He has to chuckle softly when he sees that the omega’s already asleep, or maybe just passed out, dark eyelashes fluttering slightly as he breathes slow and even. Just like he was when he first saw Jefferson, Brock’s struck by just how beautiful he is, to the point that he has to laugh at himself a little. He’s not usually one to have his breath taken away by the sight of somebody, but fuck if that isn’t exactly what’s happening here. He shakes his head and leans to kiss the hickey he left on Jefferson’s neck, smirking when the omega mewls softly in his sleep. Brock knows he shouldn’t, it’s not something he’s ever considered before, but the opportunity is just too tempting, and he can’t resist scraping his teeth across Jefferson’s neck in the echo of a bite, just to imagine what it might be like to really put a mark on the omega. As he listens to the sweet purr of Jefferson’s contentment, he vaguely wonders if a bond would take between them, but shakes that off quickly. Jefferson’s a stranger, a perfect stranger who’s made himself completely vulnerable, but a stranger nonetheless. Brock sighs, resting his head down, watching as his even breaths stir Jefferson’s curls gently. 

“What the hell are you doing here with me?”

******

Sunlight in his eyes is the first thing that registers in Brock’s mind the next morning. The second thing is sweetness, an almost cloying sweetness, that hangs in the air. As he breathes in the scent deeply, images of the night before flash through his mind, filled with that same scent and the cries of a beautiful omega. He smirks at the idea of being able to bury his face in the pillow and smell that sweetness for days to come.

He opens his eyes slowly, blinking in the light and turning his head to see that omega laid out next to him. Brock had rolled away from his side during the night, and now Jefferson’s on his back, arms spread out to frame his face, one knee bent under the sheet. _Probably used to sleeping alone_ … Brock sighs, pushing up onto his side as his eyes glance over Jefferson’s smooth, bare chest. Pretty thing like him should never sleep alone.

He leans in a bit closer and brushes a stray curl away from Jefferson’s face. As if in response, the omega shifts in his sleep and lets out a soft, contented noise as he turns his head towards Brock, curls drifting across his forehead and catching in his long eyelashes. His heat’s faded, taking with it the raw edge to his scent that Brock remembers so clearly from the night before. Must’ve been the last day of his cycle.

Brock knows he shouldn’t, but when those pink lips part ever-so-slightly, he just can’t resist leaning down to press a kiss to them. 

A startled gasp from the omega makes him pull back, and he’s greeted by wide—confused?—grey eyes. Regret twinges in Brock’s stomach and he sighs as he leans away, watching the omega’s tense hands ball up into fists before darting to pull the sheet up to his chin.

“Morning…” Brock mutters, but Jefferson just sits up and scoots away from him, curling up in the corner of the bed. He moves like he’s sore, and every inch of him is rigid. Even that mouth that had smiled so easily last night is now pressed into a hard line, and the eyes that had looked at him with so much softness are now staring him down, glaring almost. Brock raises an eyebrow, waiting for Jefferson to say something, anything. He doesn’t. “You know where you are, right?”

“Your apartment.”

Fuck, even his voice is different now, cold. That’s the word to describe all of him really… Cold, closed-off. Polar opposite to the person Brock had in his bed last night.

“Yeah…my apartment…” he huffs, pushing the blanket off and going to grab a pair of sweatpants. Fine, he can take a hint. When he turns back around, Jefferson is pointedly looking at the opposite wall. Bashful, of all things…

“Look, I’ll be in the kitchen, go ahead and use the bathroom to clean up if you want,” he grumbles, rubbing his forehead as he walks out of the room.

A few minutes later, he’s got coffee and can hear the shower running. Maybe if he were on better terms with his houseguest, he’d consider joining him. As it is he just rolls his eyes and wills his headache away. It’s either a hangover, or whiplash…

When Jefferson stumbles, literally stumbles, into the kitchen, catching himself on the wall to keep from tumbling over, he’s looking no friendlier. Brock finds himself pinned under those big eyes again, like Jefferson didn’t expect to find him in his own home.

“You alright?” Brock chuckles. Can’t help himself, Jefferson’s too cute with fluttering hands that try and fail to tuck back his wet curls and straighten his wrinkled collar.

“Fine.” Jefferson snaps, and Brock watches his cheek hollow as he bites down on the inside of it.

“Want something to drink?”

“No.”

It’s silent for a few seconds and Brock sees Jefferson’s eyes shift for him, to the door that’s just beyond his left shoulder, then back. 

“You got somewhere to be or something?”

“Home.”

“Home with somebody else?”

“What’s it to you?”

“I just fucked you. I’d like to know if somebody’d going to come kicking in my door for that so I can prepare myself.”

Jefferson scoffs, but his cheeks turn red and he looks away. “No one’s going to come kicking in your door…”

“Good to know,” Brock mutters, and Jefferson’s arms fold over his chest as he glances at the door again. Brock sighs and steps a few paces back to grab his keys. Jefferson’s soft footsteps come up behind him, but when he turns around, the omega’s left a couple feet of space between them. He looks so small, all hunched over and shy like this. Embarrassed? Nervous? Brock’s getting nothing trying to read this guy.

“I had a great time with you last night.” Maybe it’s cliché to say it…maybe he just doesn’t care.

Jefferson only nods, his eyes fixed on the hand Brock has resting on the doorknob.

“If you’d like to—”

“Please just let me leave.” 

And that’s when Brock catches it, the acrid tang of Jefferson’s fearscent hanging in the air between them. What the hell did he do to cause fear? The twinge of guilt Brock had felt earlier is gnawing at him now, annoyingly so. Sure, he’s a big guy, but he hasn’t done anything…

The omega lets out a shaky breath as his teeth sink into his bottom lip, eyes on the door like it’s his lifeline. He might just think it is. And Brock’s definitely making it worse.

He can’t even bring himself to say anything, just opens the door and watches as the omega tears out of his apartment without another word, fast enough that the scarf he’d had draped around his shoulders flutters off. Brock catches the fabric in midair, and half considers following Jefferson to return it. But the scent of the omega’s fear is still sharp in his throat, and he thinks better of that ridiculous idea.

 Slowly, with practiced hands, he wraps the bright fabric through his fingers like he would is he were binding his hands before training. Smooth and delicate, it’s glides over his skin like water, and when Brock tenses his hand into a fist, he notices the uneven stitching around the edges.

Handmade.

Maybe it’ll be something worth coming back for.

 


	2. Chapter 2

It’s been a week.

A week and the scent has almost faded from his sheets. He can almost get through the night without the image of a dark-haired, grey-eyed beauty slipping into his dreams. He can almost stop looking for that same beauty around every corner, waiting to use the scarf he can almost bring himself to leave the house without as an excuse to start up a conversation.

It’s been a week.

And Brock’s learned that he’s way more fucking pathetic than he ever knew.

Jack tried to badger him for details when he showed up to work the next evening, wanting to know if ‘that piece fucked as sweet as he looked’. Brock told him to shove it. Seemed like an appropriate response, especially considering Jack doesn’t even like omegas. To each their own, and Brock’s more than happy to keep his night with Jefferson as his own.

He honestly expected to see Jefferson at the club again, but maybe that had just been wishful thinking. Not like he’s a regular, Brock would’ve seen that face sooner, he’s sure of it. And it’s not like he’d come back just to see Brock, not after running out of his apartment like he’d been scared for his life.

Brock’s still going over that whole morning in his mind, trying to figure out what the hell had gone wrong. The only thing he’s got so far is that it probably wasn’t a good idea to wake a stranger up with a kiss…

But it’s been a week and he’s almost managed to stop the pointless spinning through of thoughts in his head.

So naturally, that’s when life decides to smack him in the face again.

******

The morning’s warm for September, but even so, Brock’s got his jacket on as he heads down the street to the little cafe he drops by every now and then. Usually, he’s not the kind of person to pay for something he can make at home (for a third of the cost), but with good coffee and decent people working the counter, can’t really complain. A treat once or twice a week never killed anybody.

He’s got his order halfway out of his mouth when he catches a glimpse of a familiar face out of the corner of his eye. Dark curls, fine cheekbones…

No fucking way…

“Is that all, sir?” The barista’s pitchy voice startles him as his gaze is dragged back to her.

“Yeah…yeah, that’s it,” he mutters, sliding his credit card across the counter towards her as he searches his peripheral vision again. It’s definitely Jefferson his eyes fall on, looking like an advertisement for autumn all curled up in one of the armchairs near the far corner window, both hands clasped around a mug, bundled up in a scarf with a hat that’s casting a shadow on his face. A beret, actually…and it’s purple…

Precious, really.

And, wouldn’t you know it, the chair directly across from him is empty.

The barista presses a cup into his hand and he nods briefly to her as he tucks his wallet away. His attention’s still across the room, and soon enough he’s following in its path.

He knows it’s probably a bad decision.

He doesn’t care.

“Hey, beautiful.”

The omega’s eyes, previously clouded with a far-away look, suddenly go wide as he starts and lifts his face. The recognition’s already there in the deep, steadying breath Jefferson pulls in, and in the way his lower lip sucks between his teeth. Brock knows he’s got a stupid smirk on his face at the sight. 

“Mind if I sit down?” he asks, nodding to the available spot. Jefferson hesitates, no surprise, but then nods, his gaze falling back down to the contents of his mug as Brock settles into the adjacent chair. “Hope you don’t think I’m stalking you—”

“I know you’re not,” Jefferson sighs. It’s not the warm gentleness from their night together…but it’s also not the cold voice from the awkward morning-after. Progress. 

“You sound awfully certain.” Jefferson just shrugs, drumming his fingers on the side of his mug.

“You’re here almost every Saturday.”

Brock tries to frown, but his mouth twists into a grin of it’s own accord. “Shit, are you the one stalking me?”

The ghost of a smile passes over Jefferson’s face, curling the corners of his mouth just barely, though he’s still staring into his drink. Tea, actually, Brock corrects himself as he notices the little tag hanging over the side of the cup. 

“I’m here almost every Saturday, too.”

Brock’s mouth opens, then closes, then opens again for a bemused chuckle, which is apparently enough to earn Jefferson’s gaze. But those eyes are guarded even as Jefferson observes him, neglecting to offer up any further explanation.

“You’re serious?”

“Yeah.” It gives him pause. Just how long have they been passing each other by?

“Wonder why I never noticed you…” He means it to be rhetorical, but Jefferson has an answer anyway.

“Well you do tend to be in and out pretty quickly.” That ghost of a smile pulls into something resembling a smirk. “Just long enough to grab your double macchiato.”

“Fuck me…you even know what I drink?”

“It’s not that hard to memorize when you get the same thing every week.” Jefferson’s eyes drop, but his smirk doesn’t. “You really never noticed me?”

“Apparently not…I have no idea how, but apparently not.”

“Funny, I thought ex-military noticed everything.”

This time the sound that comes out of Brock is less a bemused chuckle, more an amazed laugh. “Now you’re just showing off…or you’re lying about not stalking me.” Jefferson just rolls his eyes.

“You’ve got the posture and the build,” he nods to Brock offhandedly, making the alpha sit up a little straighter, just for the hell of it. “That, and your apartment’s so clean that, if it hadn’t been for how much it smelled like you, I would’ve thought it was a hotel room. Like you’re expecting a grade on how well you can organize your towels.”

Brock snorts, but he can’t really argue with that. Maybe it's not the only reason for his spotless apartment, but the organization from his army days definitely stuck with him, even if a lot of the discipline didn’t. “Guess I’ve gotten a little rusty on reading people, been a few years since I got out.”

“Ah…” Jefferson muses. He’s looking at Brock again, this time with a glint of curiosity in his eyes. “What branch?”

“Army,” Brock smiles. “Special Forces. I was a Sergeant First Class.” 

Jefferson raises an eyebrow, like he’s impressed. “So what made you get out, sergeant?”

“Honorably discharged after an injury,” Brock smirks slightly around the formality of it, and at the way Jefferson’s expression shifts, his pretty lips parting around a surprised little breath. “I bet you can guess what that injury was.”

“I can…”

“Good, because I don’t feel like giving out the gory details,” Brock shrugs. “At least, not until you show a little reciprocity and tell me something about yourself.” 

The look Jefferson regards him with is mostly exasperation, but Brock swears there’s a little hint of amusement. “Not much to tell,” he sighs, taking a drink from his cup. Brock does the same, having nearly forgotten about his coffee. “I’m not nearly as interesting as a Sergeant First Class from the Army Special Forces.”

“Now that I don’t believe for a second,” Brock chuckles. “I can already think of a couple things I’d like to know.”

“Oh really?” Jefferson cocks an eyebrow at him. “And what would they be?”

“Well for starters…is your first name really Jefferson?” That earns him a steely look.

“Yes it is. Is that a problem?”

Brock rolls his eyes. “Not at all, it’s just an unusual name.” Jefferson’s gaze isn’t easing up. “Hey, I’ve got an unusual name too, excuse me for being curious.”

Jefferson’s the one who rolls his eyes this time, but he’s no longer glaring. “Right, remind me what that unusual name of yours was?”

Brock shifts uncomfortably. Not that weird for a one night stand not to remember your name… “Brock.”

“Brock,” Jefferson repeats, rubbing his thumb over the rim of his mug. “You’re right, that is unusual.” 

“Told you,” Brock smiles.

“So, Brock, you have another question for me?”

“Do I?”

“You said you had a couple things you wanted to know. A couple usually means two.”

“Fair enough.” Brock looks Jefferson up and down, at how he’s curled up so daintily. He’d never have guessed this same person was the one who’d been grinding on him in a dark club just a week ago, but people can be awfully surprising. His smile widens. It can’t hurt to ask.

“Did you pick me out in the club because you recognized me as that jackass who gets a macchiato every Saturday, or was it just dumb luck?”

Instantly, Jefferson falters. Uncertainty flashes in his eyes before he glances away, his hands tightening around his mug. But it only last a moment before he’s got another smooth answer. “Dumb luck, I suppose. I didn’t even recognize you the next morning…”

“Not that you spent a whole lot of time looking at me the next morning.”

For a few seconds, Brock actually wonders if Jefferson’s going to crush the ceramic in his hands with how hard he’s gripping it. He realizes the full extent of his mistake when he’s met with a voice that sends a chill through him.

“Well I certainly got an eyeful when I first woke up considering your tongue was down my throat.” 

Brock can’t think of anything better to do than scoff.

“That’s an exaggeration and you know it,” he mutters, rolling his eyes when Jefferson decides he’s done something to deserve another glare. He’s not the one making stuff up. “By the way…you dropped this when you hightailed it out my front door.” He digs into his pocket and pulls out Jefferson’s scarf, folded up into a neat little square. That seems to make an impact, as Jefferson’s face softens in surprise.

“You’ve been carrying it around with you?” Well the chilly voice is gone at least, but Brock isn’t sure that’s worth the spotlight currently on his extended hand.

“Guess I kept hoping I’d run into you.” The words sound so much worse when he says them out loud, just like the fabric seems to be getting a whole lot heavier in his palm than it ever was in his pocket. “Are you gonna take it back or not?”

There’s the barest hint of a smile on Jefferson’s face as he reaches out to take the bright scarf from Brock, their fingers just barely brushing. “Thought I’d lost this thing for good,” he murmurs. Brock just shoves his hand back into his now empty pocket, taking a long gulp of his coffee. 

It’s quiet for a few moments as Jefferson tucks away the scarf. Brock’s got his eyes fixed firmly on his knee, which is now bouncing up and down.

“I’ve got to get to my job.” When Brock glances up, he’s greeted by soft grey eyes and a sweet smile. “It’s just a few streets over; if you’re headed that way too, I wouldn’t mind the company.”

He freezes, raising an eyebrow. That was not the response he’d been expecting, but Jefferson just tips his head patiently, showing no signs that he’s kidding. Well shit, he’s got no reason to turn him down.

“Yeah, sure,” he flashes a grin before pushing himself up. Jefferson set’s his now empty mug down before he stands as well, unfolding long, slim legs and pushing himself up gracefully, flashing that shy, pretty smile once their eyes are level. “Forgot how tall you were.”

“Yeah, I get that a lot…” Jefferson actually blushes at that and drops his head, which has Brock frowning.

“Nothing to be embarrassed about,” he chuckles. “Tall is hot.”

Jefferson shrugs, but he does look back up. They’re a lot closer together now, he’s picking up Jefferson’s scent again, warm on his tongue. “Yeah? You like tall omegas?”

“Tall guys,” Brock corrects, then laughs. “And short guys. Women aren’t my thing, but beyond that I’m not very picky.” Jefferson’s lower lip pushes out a little into a pout.

“So I just had the right anatomy, that’s why you decided to sleep with me?” Brock’s almost worried until he sees Jefferson’s dimples peeking out to frame a grin. 

“Well it definitely helped,” he grins back. “It also helped that you smelled like sex without me even touching you. Couldn’t leave you hanging.”

It’s less obvious this time, but that same hesitation glints in Jefferson’s eyes before he’s moving past Brock. 

“You’re going to make me late.” The words say brush-off, but the tone says invitation. And Brock’s got zero idea what to make of that reaction.

“Well don’t let me stop you,” he mutters, for lack of anything else to say, catching up to Jefferson in a few strides. The omega smiles a little, but there’s less light in it as they exit the cafe and head down the block. It’s quiet between them now, but Brock isn’t willing to let that last very long.

“Look, I don’t know how you can expect me to not bring up the fact that we had sex. It’s not like we’ve done anything else together.”

“It’s not that.”

“Then what? Because that’s the second time you’ve clammed up on me for mentioning it…third if you count last Sunday.”

“It’s just…” Jefferson bites his lip and huffs, exasperated now. “The fact that I was in heat makes it complicated.”

That’s a bullshit excuse if Brock’s ever heard one. “Why? I was in rut. We’re hardly the first alpha-omega pair to use each other to relieve a little tension.”

“No you don’t understand—”

“What don’t I—”

“Oh for fuck’s sake”

Before he can protest, Brock’s being tugged into the nearest alley. Jefferson’s got a hold on his collar as he presses him against the wall, but that quickly loosens so he can lean against the opposite building, looking up like he’s expecting a signal to fall from the sky. Brock waits. He’s got nothing but time right now.

“I’m not usually…” Jefferson starts before cutting himself off and biting his lip again, refusing to look at Brock. “I’m _never_ this honest. I never have the chance to be…”

“Ok—”

“Just shut up and let me say this.” 

Brock’s eyebrows about hit his hairline, but he is quiet. Jefferson shakes his head. 

“I…I don’t actually remember sleeping with you.

When the words first pass over him, it’s almost like he hasn’t heard anything at all. Sounds, echoes of words, but hollow. 

“You don’t remember?” 

“I remember the next morning, but that night, that entire day, is pretty much blank.”

“Were you drunk? Drugs?” Sure Jefferson had seemed out of it, but not _that_ out of it. “How can you not—”

“My heats affect my memory.” He says it like he’s scared he might forget the words. One rush of breath. “It’s not so bad the first day, but then it just gets worse and worse until I black out. Apparently, I lose all my self-control then too because when it breaks I always wake up in some alpha’s bed.” 

That’s when the meaning hits him. Hits him like a truck. A breath is forced out of him and his head snaps back to collide with the wall behind him under the impact of it.

Shocked is a fucking understatement.

“Well that explains a lot…” is all he can manage. Waking up with no idea where you are because a stranger's kissing you…that’s a pretty good reason to be afraid. Now he’s the one staring up for an answer to a question he doesn’t even have.

“Don’t take it personally…”

“No, I’m not, I get it,” Brock interjects quickly. “I’m just usually better at recognizing when somebody’s not lucid. Fucking people who are incapacitated isn’t exactly my thing…”

“I’ve been told I’m pretty convincing,” Jefferson murmurs. “That I look normal.”

“Well, normal’s a matter of interpretation,” Brock chuckles dryly. “Honestly, I just thought it was because you were in heat. I’ve never been with an omega like that before so, you know?” He sighs. “What the fuck did I know…”

“Right…”

For a few minutes there’s no sound aside from the rush of a car driving by. Jefferson’s staring pointedly at nothing further down the alleyway, like he’s trying to ignore how Brock’s studying him. His shoulders have rolled forward as his arms wrapped around his middle, just like they’d been when Brock stood between him and the door. 

“So…once a month…you just lose it?”

Jefferson lets out a weak little laugh. His hat’s hiding his face. “Yeah, more or less.”

Brock’s mind is spinning now. Heat’s are usually at least three or four days…more typically they’re around a week. Losing days like that every month… “How do you hold down a job?”

“A really understanding boss.” Jefferson shakes his head. “I wasn’t always lucky the way I am now…”

Brock nods, then smiles a little breathlessly. “That’s impressive…that you’re managing on your own like that.”

“Barely managing…” Jefferson mutters, then presses a hand to his forehead. “Look, I don’t even know why I’m telling you this—”

“Hell, I don’t even know why you let me sit down with you,” Brock chuckles. Jefferson gives a weak smile.

“As far as alphas go, you’re not so bad,” he shrugs. Brock can’t help but laugh, though apparently Jefferson isn’t bothered. His smile’s grown, curling up into his full cheeks. “I’ve come out of heats looking a lot worse because guys took advantage of the fact that I couldn’t fight them. You only gave me a hickey. I’m not complaining.”

“Great. So as assholes go, I’m a lesser evil?”

“Basically.”

Jefferson’s grinning now, so Brock has to smile back, even if he can’t really agree with the omega’s conclusions. Fortunately, he’s distracted from that when Jefferson lets his head tip with a sigh, and exposes that now faded mark Brock left a week earlier. 

“I did get you pretty good, didn’t I?” he smirks, snorting when Jefferson’s hand shoots up to clasp over the mark.

“Yeah, I guess you did…” His cheeks are just about matching the rosy color of his scarf, which he tugs up to hide the mark. Brock forces himself not to protest. Knowing it’s there is enough.

“Now you really are going to make me late…” Jefferson finally murmurs.

“Hey, you’re the one who decided to host this little tell-all session.”

That earns him an eye-roll, but he’s still a little giddy as he follows Jefferson out of the alley. After all, he was never told his presence wasn’t welcome. He does keep a pace or so behind Jefferson as they walk though, eyeing him up and down.

Once a month, he loses control…

Once a month, he finds a new partner to sate the urges…

Sounds like a situation that cries out for better planning.

“This is me.”

Brock halts when Jefferson turns around to face him, tipping his head to indicate a quaint storefront. “So vintage is your thing?” he smirks as he looks over an assortment of decades laid out in bits and pieces in the display window.

“I guess you could say that,” Jefferson nods and worries his lower lip for a moment, hesitating. “Thank you for returning my scarf.”

“No problem.” Brock’s the one hesitating now, and Jefferson must see that because his eyebrows raise expectantly. Can’t back down now. “I was thinking…”

“Yes?”

Brock laughs softly at the eagerness in Jefferson’s voice. “I mean, waking up in a strange alpha’s bed once a month…that doesn’t sound like the safest thing.”

He swears Jefferson looks…disappointed? Or maybe just surprised. But either way he drops his eyes again. “I guess so, yeah…”

“Well I was just thinking…I might be able to offer you an alternative.” Jefferson cocks an eyebrow, which makes Brock smirk. “If you need somebody, you could give me a call.”

Jefferson lets out a heavy sigh. “You’re offering to fuck me.” It’s not a question. Brock shrugs.

“I’m offering whatever you may need once a month.” Jefferson nods slowly but doesn’t reply. “Look, I’m not gonna force it, but if you don’t have anybody else…well, I can’t be worse than just another stranger, right?”

“Of course.”

“Is that a yes?”

The look Jefferson levels him with is hard and unforgiving, but he just smiles. Finally, the omega sighs heavily once again, pulling out his phone.

“Why don’t you give me your number, and I’ll consider it.”

******

“So have you heard from him yet?”

Brock laughs as he glances at Natasha over to rim of his glass before downing the liquor in it. “It’s only been a couple days, he’s not gonna need me for at least a week or two.”

Natasha tips her head, disparaging down to the way the ends of her auburn hair shift.

“What?”

“You’re honestly just in this for the sex?”

“Come on, don’t start…” Brock groans. Nat just watches him. “Tasha, you’ve known me a long time, have you ever seen me be a relationship guy?”

“I’ve known you a long time, and I’ve never seen you to be a ‘dancing’ guy.” Brock rolls his eyes at Natasha’s grin. “But apparently things changed for him.”

“Not that much,” Brock mutters. Natasha hums and sips from her glass. Water, she never drinks on the job. “Look, yeah, I’m in it for the sex, alright? But so is he, so I don’t know what the problem is.”

“No problem at all.”

“Yes, there is, because you’re coming at me with that disapproving big sister shit.”

“I’m three years younger than you.”

“Which is what makes the disapproving big sister shit so unnerving.”

Natasha sighs in the amused, deprecating way she always saves for when she’s pitying someone, pouring Brock another drink which he readily starts on. “You just seemed to really like him.”

Brock snorts. “He was hot, sue me.”

“There was more to it than that.”

“How could there possibly be more? We were together for what—twenty minutes—before clearing out?”

“Something like that…” But now she’s smirking, which is never good.

“And?”

Natasha chuckles. “A bar is ground-zero for observing mating behavior. Trust me, I see it a hundred times a night. I know what the real thing looks like.” 

“The real thing?”

“Real chemistry.” Brock snorts, but Natasha holds her ground. “Alpha, omega, beta, doesn’t matter. When it’s there, it’s obvious.”

“Whatever…”

“Don’t _whatever_ your big sister.” Brock slides a glare out of the corner of his eye. Natasha flutters her eyelashes in response, gesturing with the bottle in her hand. “Especially not when she’s the one supplying your alcohol.”

“…Fair.” This time Natasha’s smile is easy as she tops off his glass, but Brock just taps the side.

“Now, I’m not saying you should put a mark on him tomorrow but—”

“Whoa, hold up, I’m not ‘putting a mark’ on anybody.”

“Oh?” Natasha’s eyes roll over him thoughtfully. “You sound very sure.” And she says it in a voice that makes him want to question everything.

“Look, I just don’t think I’m that type…”

“Jack’s not ‘that type’.” She punctuates the statement with the thud of setting down the bottle. “You on the other hand…”

Brock waits for her to finish, but all she does is flash a smirk. He has to laugh. “You honestly think I’m the type to take a mate?”

“I think you’re more of a family guy than you let on,” Natasha shrugs. “And I think that if you let your guard down, your mate is going to take you, not the other way around.”

“Right,” Brock rolls his eyes before sighing. “In my experience, me and family don’t really mix well.”

“Whatever you say.” Natasha chuckles before glancing down the bar. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have co-eds to intoxicate.” Brock barks a laugh into his glass, downing the rest of it’s contents. “And you better not drive after everything you’ve had.”

“Sure thing, big sis.”

“Just looking out for you, jackass.”

******

Another week passes. Nothing. Brock skips his regular trip to that cafe. He tells himself it’s got nothing to do with Jefferson.

How could it when he’s walked past the store where Jefferson works three times trying to catch a glimpse of him? With no luck, he might add.

But still, radio silence.

Another week, and finally he gets a message. But Brock isn’t the one who reaches his phone first when it lights up with Jefferson’s name.

“Hey, your fucktoy is texting you.”

Brock glances up with a frown from Jack’s couch where he’s been sprawled out, watching tv, for half an hour. Sue him, he likes to relax after a hard workout with a good partner.

“What are you talking about?”

“That omega, his name was Jefferson, right?” Brock’s up in seconds, grabbing his phone away from Jack, who smirks at him. “Strung out much?”

“Fuck off,” Brock mutters. “And he’s not my fucktoy. Pretty sure that would require us to have done way more fucking.”

“Then why is he texting ‘I need you’ along with his address?” Brock’s reading the text himself as Jack repeats it back, and even though he’s about ready to sock his friend in the jaw for running his mouth, there’s certain pride that settles low in his stomach. _I need you._ He can almost hear Jefferson saying it, see him writhing in bed, whining in that ruined voice Brock remembers so clearly. Fucking hell.

“Get fucked, Rollins,” he chuckles, grabbing his jacket. Jack’s look of disbelief only makes his mood better. “Because I know I am tonight.”

“You’re serious? One text and you’re running out on me for him?”

“You jealous?”

“Jealous that you’re whipped as fuck by an omega you barely know? Hardly.”

Brock rolls his eyes. Jack doesn’t know about his offered arrangement with Jefferson. Didn’t seem like the sort of thing Brock should be spreading around. “Didn’t you hear? He _needs_ me.” If only Jack knew…

Jack levels Brock with a hard glare, looking him up and down. He’s not an idiot, he can tell when he’s missing a piece of the puzzle. Brock’s not concerned, slipping on his jacket and raising an eyebrow impatiently. Jack’s also not stupid enough to pry when Brock isn’t being forthcoming. They respect each other like that. 

“Must’ve been some night between you two,” Jack finally mutters, taking Brock’s place on the couch with a gruff sigh.

“You have no idea,” Brock grins, heading for the door and laughing when he hears Jack call back at him:

“Only because you decided to be a bitch who wouldn’t kiss and tell.”

Brock shoots him a bird. Seems fair enough. Especially once he’s distracted by another text from Jefferson when he’s barely three steps out of Jack’s apartment.

_[Are you coming???]_

_[yeah i’m on my way now. i cant exactly teleport]_

_[I told you I needed you…]_ He can just about see Jefferson pouting as he reads. He gets so whiny when he’s hot for it, it’s fucking adorable.

_[i know beautiful im coming as fast as i can]_

_[Faster.]_

Well shit, he can’t really argue with that. He smirks as he tosses his phone onto the passenger’s seat of his car.

Turns out Jack lives further from Jefferson than Brock actually does, a frustrating realization that leaves Brock grumbling and drumming on his steering wheel as he tries to will other cars out of his way. It certainly doesn’t help that Jefferson insists on texting him every couple of minutes, asking where he is or if he’s almost there. Brock wishes he had something actually good to tell him.

He grabs his phone when he catches the next red light, thumbing through the various impatient pleas and questions until he falls on one that lands like a rock in his stomach.

_[Call me? I want to hear your voice…]_

The light turns green in front of him, and he barely glances up before pressing the gas. 

Time to break some more traffic laws for Jefferson.

The phone barely rings once before the omega picks up, and Brock bites back a groan at the little needy whimper he’s greeted with.

“I’m sorry I’m bothering you…” God, he sounds like he’s on the verge of tears.

“Baby, you aren’t bothering me at all,” he grins, his hand tightening on the steering wheel. “Just wanted to hear my voice, huh?”

“Needed to know you were real,” Jefferson whines, and Brock hears the rustle of fabric in the background. Either he’s caught up in a blanket, or he’s trying to pull off his clothes, and either way Brock’s about to break something. Why the fuck isn’t he already there…

“I’m very real, and believe me, I wish I was with you as much as you do.”

“Not possible.”

Brock has to laugh. “Oh really?”

“Don’t fucking laugh at me!” Brock’s caught off guard by the sudden anger in Jefferson’s voice, but he forgets about it as quickly as Jefferson’s voice fades into a whine, muffled like he’s hiding his face. “You have no idea how much this hurts…”

“I’m gonna make it all better, I promise,” Brock purrs. He’s speeding now. “Gonna take such good care of you, beautiful…” Jefferson’s whimper almost breaks him.

“You fucking better…” There’s no malice this time, and Brock smirks, sliding into the nearest parking space.

“I’m in front of your building now.”

“Then get the fuck up here.”

“Don’t be rude or I might change my mind.” Brock grins when Jefferson lets out and indignant cry before hanging up the call and shoving his door open. 

Jefferson lives on the fourth floor of a walk-up, but Brock makes it to his door in record time without even thinking of stopping. He doesn’t even need to look for the apartment number, the scent of the omega is so strong he could smell it in the stairwell, guiding him to the right door. But even so the full scent of heat doesn’t punch him until Jefferson opens the door before Brock even makes his presence known, dragging him inside.

At first all he knows his warmth and skin and sweetness as Jefferson throws himself into Brock’s arms, keening softly. He’s already shirtless, dewy with sweat, and Brock’s nails rake across the omega’s back as he struggles to get a grip on him, lifting him up and pressing him into the nearest wall. Jefferson cries out but doesn’t protest, burying his face in Brock’s neck and whimpering in between messy kisses.

“You’re here, you’re here—!”

When the words Jefferson’s whispering over and over finally solidify in Brock’s mind, he pulls back, cupping Jefferson’s jaw to stop the omega from chasing him. “Of course I’m here…” he mutters, frowning when he sees wet, reddened eyes looking back at him.

“I thought you wouldn’t…” Jefferson chokes out, shutting his eyes tight as he tries to nuzzle into Brock’s hand. “Because I was rude…you said—”

Brock cuts Jefferson off with a kiss that has the omega moaning, parting his lips to lick into Brock’s mouth. He let’s him in, only to nip that curious tongue when it slips between his teeth.

“I didn’t mean that, baby,” he purrs, and Jefferson ducks his head, embarrassed. “Can’t say no to this.” He slips his fingers up to brush against Jefferson’s mouth, and groans when the omega takes them in, licking and sucking softly as he looks up at Brock through those heavy eyelashes. “Now how about I make good on my promise to take care of you?” 

Jefferson gasps like he’s been hit and Brock grins, pulling his fingers back so he can kiss the smile that’s tugging at the omega’s lips. “Lead the way, beautiful.” 

“Yes, Alpha…”

And then everything’s a blur. It’s so easy to lose himself in Jefferson’s body; all smooth, skin that welcomes him like they’re old lovers, arching up into him, warming under his touch, moving easy and pliant at his urging. His instincts scream at him to lay marks across the omega’s body in handprints and scratches and bites, but he holds back. If Jefferson doesn’t want to wake up with bruises, he can do that. He’s not going to be an idiot and ruin a good thing.

He takes Jefferson from the back again, one hand tangled in that mess of curls, pulling him to meet each thrust. Jefferson cries and moans and squeals when he comes, his voice honeyed with pleasure as he loses himself to his more carnal needs, and whimpers so sweet when Brock shoves him down into the bed and growls against his skin, his knot pushing into that slick passage. Then there’s just breathing, harsh and heavy but evening out slowly as Brock brushes his lips along Jefferson’s trembling shoulders, sliding his arms underneath the omega’s body to hold him tight. Another little whimper, and when Brock glances up, he sees Jefferson’s eyes fluttering shut to sleep off the tail end of this wave. 

“That’s my boy,” Brock murmurs, nuzzling into Jefferson’s curls. The raw scent of his heat is still there, strong as ever and thick in Brock’s throat. He’s going to need looking after for at least another day until this breaks. “You really do need me, don’t you, baby?” Brock let’s out a deep purr. “Lucky for you, you caught me on my night off.”

He rolls onto his side, careful to bring Jefferson with him so the omega doesn’t tug uncomfortably where they’re tied. It took a full hour for Brock’s knot to go down last time, his rut making him last longer, but this time he can’t imagine it taking more than twenty minutes. Alpha’s cycles are longer, peaking every few of months, unlike omegas’ monthly cycles. He doesn’t get it, but nature seems to have its way regardless of logic. 

Gliding his fingers absentminded through Jefferson’s hair, he can’t help but notice that the omega’s little studio apartment is a mess. He’s got clothes thrown everywhere, empty cups sitting on nearly every flat surface, a sink full of dishes…his coffeetable’s even upended, books and what looks like sewing supplies strewn around it. To be fair, Brock might’ve done that trying to get Jefferson into bed; he recalls knocking his leg on something at least. He sighs. People have teased him about being compulsively organized and tidy before, but he’s never considered they might be right. He’s itching to clean this place up, if only for his own sanity. 

As soon as he can move, he slowly pulls out of Jefferson, shucking off the used condom and tossing it into a nearby, if somewhat ignored, trashcan. He misses the warmth of the omega’s body instantly, and it doesn’t help that Jefferson whimpers softly, like he’s trying to call Brock back to him. It’s a tempting offer to be sure, especially when Jefferson rolls onto his back, eyes still closed, spreading himself out for Brock to admire. He even tilts his head to expose those scars on his neck, pinkish lines etched into his pale skin. Vulnerable. Brock can’t resist reaching out to run his fingertips across them. Made by a knife, and fairly deep; Jefferson’s lucky that whoever did this managed to miss the important veins and arteries. A little higher and…

Jefferson tips his head so his cheek rests against the back of Brock’s hand, letting out a soft, peaceful sound. Brock smiles a little. He’s out like a light, doesn’t even flinch when Brock lifts his thumb to press against those plush lips. Plush lips that are begging for a kiss.

No, he’s not going to make that mistake again. Shaking his head, he gets up, pulling on his boxers before setting to work on the apartment. The coffeetable’s first, tipped back onto it’s four legs before Brock starts laying out the books that ended up on the floor. Older books, with rough edges and dusty covers. He chuckles as curiosity gets the better of him and he finds that they’re all filled with poetry. 

“What is so real as the cry of a child?A rabbit’s cry may be wilder, but it has no soul…” he glances up from the pages to look over at Jefferson, who’s shifted again, arms wrapped tightly around his pillow. “Heavy shit,” he chuckles, before placing the book back down with the others and setting to work on gathering little bundles of thread and a couple needles, tucking them back into a sewing kit that couldn’t look more grandmotherly if it tried. There’s even a doily on the lid for fuck’s sake.

A quick glance through the kitchen produces all of a box of crackers as far as food goes, much to Brock’s disappointment. Either Jefferson subsists on an entirely liquid diet, considering how many different kinds of tea he also finds scattered around, or he hasn’t been to the store in weeks. Brock sighs, glancing back at Jefferson again. He’s still showing no signs that he’s going to be getting up anytime soon. 

“Looks like I’m making a trip to the grocery store.” Pulling on the rest of his clothes, Brock sighs as he watches Jefferson carefully, waiting for any sign that the omega’s going to wake up. Be easier if he could just tell him where he’s going; might freak out again if he wakes up alone… 

Brock locates Jefferson’s phone, setting it on the table next to his bed, then takes the keys from the front doorknob. Not like he has his own set. “Be right back,” he mutters, making sure the door is locked behind him.

Half an hour, and one cashier who decided to get glib because he could smell Jefferson’s heatscent, later, Brock’s fumbling with Jefferson’s front door again, trying to get the right key in the lock while balancing an overstuffed grocery bag on his arm. He can hear the shower running on the other side of the door so he doesn’t bother looking for Jefferson as he starts putting things away. 

“It’s just me,” he calls when the water shuts off. He’s taken a knee to the balls for sneaking up on people before; not an experience he cares to relive. 

“You came back?”

Jefferson’s voice is tiny from the bathroom doorway, and when Brock turns to him, he finds him wrapped in a towel, peaking out from behind the door.

“Yeah, of course I did,” he grins, leaning against the counter. Jefferson looks away, but his eyes are wide and unsure. “You alright?”

Jefferson bites down on his lip before his mouth opens and finally Brock notices that he’s shivering. Without hesitation he reaches out, only to find the omega’s skin is ice cold. He must’ve been in a cold shower for almost as long as Brock was gone. Before he can ask Jefferson’s clinging to him, words rushing out of his mouth. “I-I thought I’d dreamed it, that I was imagining your scent…thought I was alone.” His voice breaks, but that doesn’t stop him. “It got bad again…I got in the shower to try to make it stop but—”

“Hey, hey, it’s alright,” Brock cuts him off, resting his hands on Jefferson’s shoulders and rubbing to create a little friction. He swears that Jefferson’s lips are even a little blue. “Fuck, we need to get you warmed up.”

“No!” Brock startles at the omega’s sudden shriek. “No! If I get hot it’ll start again!”

“You can’t freeze your heat away,” Brock snaps. Jefferson’s still dripping wet, and the apartment’s chilly too, bad insulation. He grabs the towel, rubbing roughly at Jefferson’s hair and skin to get him dry before pulling off his jacket and wrapping it around the omega’s shoulders. “Come on, go get in bed. I’ll—hell, I’ll make you some of that tea you’re kitchen is drowning in.”

Jefferson nods weakly, sliding his arms into the sleeves of Brock’s jacket. It dwarfs him, hanging off his slim frame, so he looks even smaller all hunched over and shivering. “I like Earl Grey…”

“What?”

“It’s a kind of tea I have,” he mumbles. “It’s my favorite, if that’s ok…”

That’s not the sort of thing that should send Brock’s mind into overdrive trying to connect the dots, but fuck if he doesn’t stand there short-circuiting for a few seconds.

“You…don’t have to ask my permission for that…” The words come out as a hollow laugh. This can’t be real life. “Look, just go get under the blankets, ok? You need to warm up.”

“Will you come too?” A soft hand grasps Brock’s arm. He only had a t-shirt on underneath his jacket, so he’s painfully aware that Jefferson’s touching his scars, the numb skin tingling where Jefferson’s cool fingers touch. He pulls back, looking away when Jefferson’s eyes bore into him, begging why.

“Yeah, I’ll be there in a second, just go lay down.” He did not sign up for this.

Jefferson’s hand is left hanging, closing weakly around air. His eyes are lost for a few seconds before he wraps his arms around himself and shuffles across the room to the bed, where he bundles the blanket around him. He looks almost like a child…

Brock cuts that off because the last thing he needs is another reason to feel weird about this. 

_“The fact that I was in heat makes it complicated”_

He hadn’t been fucking kidding. Brock’s half tempted to ask if Jefferson’s got an identical twin.

Once the teapot’s set on Jefferson’s stove—a gas stove of all things— Brock makes his way slowly back over to the omega, bringing with him an apple. Jefferson seems to hesitate before looking up at him with nervous eyes, tightening the blankets around his body.

“What, now you don’t want me near you?” he teases, trying to keep his cool as he eases down onto the bed. “Eat, you need it.”

Jefferson’s got those fluttery hands again as takes the apple in both hands and nibbles at it. With an abrupt shift, Brock finds the omega cuddled against him, head resting on his shoulder. Probably just seeking warmth. Brock puts his arm around Jefferson in return, earning him a light purr against his neck as soft lips nuzzle closer.

“Hey, not until you’ve eaten and had something to drink,” he insists. “I’m not having you pass out on me.”

“You smell so good…”

Brock has to close his eyes. “So do you,” he sighs, tipping his head into Jefferson’s hair again. Sweet and warm, calling to him… “Do as I say and I’ll take care of you, alright?”

Jefferson whines a little, but does nod, flinching when the teapot starts to whistle. Brock extricates himself from grasping hands and tangled legs, his own body shaky has he crosses the little apartment again.

Making tea, giving orders about eating…he’s even _cuddling_ right now. 

How the fuck did he end up here?

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags have been updated, please take a glance before reading to make sure this is still your cup of tea
> 
> This chapter ended up being way longer than anticiapated, I hope you enjoy~

“I’m telling you, Nat, I’m in over my fucking head…”

Two months, and two of Jefferson’s heats, later, and he’s finally blurting it out that he did not know what he was getting into. It’s just one day per month, but it rocks him for the duration, the way Jefferson clings and cries and begs. Anything can set him off into a new emotion and it’s fucking terrifying.

He would’ve expected Natasha to be a little more sympathetic.

Instead, she’s sighing at him around a french fry, unreadable.

“What?”

“You’re expecting me to feel sorry for _you_ in this whole situation?”

Brock runs his tongue across his teeth, glancing out the diner window. “Fine, ignore me.”

“I’m not ignoring you, you should just think about who, out of the two of you, actually has it worse.”

“I’m not saying I have it worse!” Brock snaps. Natasha raises her eyebrow at him. “I’m just…I don’t know…”

“Running your mouth?”

“I’m good at that.”

“Indeed you are,” Natasha grins. “Look, if you’re so unhappy with this whole arrangement, then I don’t know why you haven’t ended it.” 

Brock rolls his eyes. She’s right, of course. “I don’t fucking know either.”

“Bullshit.” Brock sets his teeth, Natasha seems to find that cute. “You never do anything without reason, even if that reason is just ‘because I can’. You know exactly why, you just don’t want to admit it.” 

“You should’ve been a damn shrink,” Brock mutters, flexing his shoulders when Natasha won’t stop staring. “I guess I’m just a jealous prick who doesn’t want anybody else getting their hands on him.”

Natasha snorts. “So you do care about him.”

“I did not say that.” Brock’s teeth sink into his tongue as soon as the words are out.

“You said you were jealous,” Natasha smiles again. “That sort of implies that you care.”

Brock sighs in defeat and folds his arms on the table, nudging his barely touched plate out of the way. He’s the one who told Natasha they should ‘get lunch or something’ so he’d have the chance to bitch to her. What else should he have expected, really?

“Look me in the eye and tell me I’m wrong.”

Brock slowly slides his gaze back to meet hers, and finds it in himself to smile. “You say that like I’ve never gotten away with lying under oath before.”

“And if I’d been cross-examining you, you’d still be in prison for perjury.” Despite her teasing, Natasha’s eyes have softened a little. She’s searching now, and Brock can’t deal with that bright green digging into him for very long.

“I don’t fucking know…” he mutters. A car whizzes by outside, the breeze of it turning over the fresh, powdery snow. He drops his head. “Can’t just leave him hanging when he doesn’t have anybody else, right?”

He glances back at Natasha, but she’s lowered her eyes. They both know what that’s like, having nobody. 

“You’re a better man than you usually let yourself be.”

Brock just rolls his eyes. Not a damn thing good about him. “Can we stop talking about me now?” he chuckles, desperate for a change of subject. “How about your love life, you getting serious with that girl yet? Mary—”

“Maria,” Natasha corrects. “And she’s hardly a girl.”

“Right, I forgot,” Brock smirks. Maria, the well-dressed businesswoman who’d somehow found her way into their little club and proceeded to monopolize Natasha for the entire night. Very uncharacteristic of the very professional bartender. Natasha’s got a barely-there smile she’s trying to hide with the tilt of her head. “Gonna tell me what you’re so happy about?”

Natasha raises an eyebrow at him, but it doesn’t last long. Her slender fingers capture a locket she’s got around her neck. One Brock can’t remember having seen before. “I’m basically living with her at this point,” she admits. “Didn’t really mean for it to happen, just spent so many nights with her that now half my stuff’s in her apartment.”

Brock’s grin falters, feeling frozen on his face. “That’s…that’s great, Tasha.” It is great. Moving in together is great, objectively he knows that. But he’s never really pictured Natasha getting serious with someone, and it shows when he puts his foot in his mouth almost immediately. “Does she, uh…know about you…?”

He trails off, half because that’s not the sort of thing you talk about in a public space, and half because Natasha’s looking at him like she’s going to stab him with the first thing her hand falls on. Which would probably be the knife her fingers are currently dancing around, so…you know…effective… 

“Does Jefferson know about _you_?” It’s more an accusation than a question. Brock rolls his eyes.

“I’m not dating Jefferson.” Natasha’s gaze doesn’t let up, pinning him until he raises his hands in surrender. “Fine, forget I asked.”

“Consider it forgotten.” It's silent as Brock leans back, colliding roughly with the back of their booth. Natasha’s still running her fingers over that locket. Finally, she shakes her head. “That’s not the kind of picture she needs in her head.”

“Fair enough,” Brock sighs. He’s still searching for something to say when his phone buzzes. Compulsively, he checks it and his heart hits his stomach when he sees Jefferson’s name.

“That’s him?” Natasha asks. Brock just barely manages to nod.

“Yeah, I—” He fails to find a way to finish that thought as he opens Jefferson’s text and reads: _[are you busy?]_

“Go on, answer him.” When Brock looks up, Natasha’s smiling back at him. “I know you want to.”

Brock would bother protesting if she weren’t right.

“It’s a couple days early for this…” he mutters as he quickly types out _[not really. u need something?]_

“You know down to the day?”

Brock frowns as he glances up. “He’s regular, sue me.” Natasha’s snort is lost on him as another text comes in.

_[can you call?]_

“What’s he saying?”

“He wants me to call him…” Brock’s uncertainty reads in his voice. Something doesn’t feel right.

“So call him,” Natasha insists, leaning forward impatiently

Another text: _[you don’t have to…]_

Natasha raises her eyebrows at him expectantly. Brock doesn’t hesitate to tap Jefferson’s name and put the phone to his ear.

It rings once. Twice. He’s taking too long.

“Hi.” Brock releases a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding when he hears Jefferson’s voice, so timid on the other end.

“Hey…” He glances at Nat. “Uh, what’s going on?”

“I’m sorry…” A weak sniffle makes his brow furrow. “I shouldn’t have called…I didn’t know what else to do.”

“No, it’s fine,” Brock says quickly. Jefferson’s breath catches, like he’s either fighting off the tail end of a bad cry, or on the leading edge of one. Maybe both. “You need something?”

There’s silence and Brock watches Nat mouth _“Is he ok?”_ The best answer he can offer is a shrug.

“Jefferson—?”

“It’s really bad.”

Brock shifts in his seat and flashes a desperate glance at Natasha, who can only open her hands in a helpless gesture. “W-what is?” he forces out, clearing his throat roughly after the stutter.

There’s the faint sound of Jefferson trying to speak, but he chokes on his own voice so all that comes out at first is a weak sob. “Me…” he finally whimpers, and Brock feels his stomach drop. “I-I’m gonna do something really bad…”

A sickening chill shoots through him at the fear in the omega’s voice, and his panic must show on his face, because he can see it reflecting back in Natasha’s eyes.

“Do you need to go?” she whispers.

“Do you want me to come over?” Brock mirrors the question, trying to breathe steadily as his listens to choked sobs that make his shoulders tense and his bones numb like ice.

“Please…” Jefferson whispers. And then the line goes dead and Brock swears his heart stops.

“What’s going on?” Natasha presses. Brock stares at his phone.

“Says he’s gonna do ‘something bad’”

“You think he’ll hurt himself?”

“I don’t fucking know!” Brock snaps. An image of the scars on Jefferson’s neck flash through his mind. How they pull down, not across…how they’re on the right side of his neck…how Jefferson’s left-handed…“I can’t do this.”

“Can’t do _what_?”

“I can’t deal with this shit!” Brock hisses. He presses his fist to his forehead, the hard edge of his phone digging into his skin. “Do I look like a fucking therapist to you? I can’t—”

“Are you kidding me?” The bite in Natasha’s voice is enough to make him look up. Her eyes are narrowed dangerously, daring him to make one misstep. He does anyway.

“What are you pissed at me for? I didn’t—”

“You’re a real selfish prick, you know that?”

“Yeah, I do,” Brock growls in response to her rhetorical question. They’re getting looks from other tables. He doesn’t care. “Am I not allowed to worry about my own sanity?”

“Not when someone is telling they might hurt themselves if they don’t get help.” Brock grimaces and rolls his eyes.

“So you go see him if you’re so damn worried…”

“I’m not the one he called, crying for help.”

“I never said he was crying…” He’s evading now. He’s not above it.

“You were making that that face you always make when somebody’s crying.” Brock opens his mouth to retort but manages to think better of it. Natasha doesn't misread faces, but he doesn’t have to like it. “Look, usually I don’t care about you being an emotionally constipated dick, but this is one of those times when you need to just toughen up and deal.”

Brock bites down on the inside of his cheek. He wants to argue, but the sound of Jefferson’s crying is echoing in his head now, tugging at something in the pit of his stomach that he can’t ignore.

“You want to go, you’re just scared.” Natasha mutters. Brock about puts his fist through the window.

“I’m not fucking scared.” Even he doesn’t believe the lie this time. If there were ever a stupid reason not to do something… He sighs heavily and grabs his coat from the seat next to him. “Fine, I get it, alright? I’m going.”

“Good.” Natasha nods, smug in her victory. “I’ve got lunch covered.”

“You’re too good to me,” Brock drawls, swearing when he gets his jacket sleeves bunched up in the sleeves of his coat like he’s a fucking child who doesn’t know how to dress himself. He knows Natasha’s shaking her head at him.

“What?”

“Not a damn thing.” Fucking hell, she’s smirking at him too. He shoots her a glare that she answers with a blithe expression. “Go on, Alpha.” 

“If you ever call me that again, I swear to god I’ll stop speaking to you then and there.” That actually earns him a laugh from Natasha that he frowns at before shoving the door open into brisk winter air.

******

He almost turns around three separate times on the way to Jefferson’s apartment.

Once when his car doesn’t want to start from the cold, and he briefly considers it might be some sort of sign.

Once when he has to drive right past his own apartment building and finds his usual parking spot watching him with safe, familiar, open arms from the side of the road. 

And once when he’s stopped outside Jefferson’s building, staring up at what he knows is the omega’s bedroom window, hands gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles are turning white.

But fuck it, he’s here now, might as well.

His feet drag, heavy and unwilling, on the walk up, and Jefferson’s scent—he’d know it anywhere by now, strong with heat but tarnished with fear—just about knocks him down when he’s halfway there. How is the entire building not beating down his door when he smells like that?

“Please don’t have done anything stupid, please don’t have done anything stupid…” he mutters to himself like a prayer as he approaches Jefferson’s door. He tries the knob with a numb hand, nauseated when it turns with no resistance in his hand. Jefferson never leaves his door unlocked…

He steps in, steeling himself for the worst while still half-hoping Jefferson will just launch into his arms like always.

He’s not so lucky.

For his trouble, he’s met with Jefferson standing about four feet from the door, arm extended, brandishing a pair of surprisingly sharp-looking scissors.

It’s almost funny. Almost. The splotchy red tear tracks on Jefferson’s face put a bit of a damper on the comedy. Brock sighs as he slowly closes the door, opening his mouth to ask what Jefferson’s doing until the omega beats him to the punch.

“Why do you keep coming here?” Jefferson’s voice is breathy, punctuated with weak sobs. 

_I really don’t fucking know._ The sarcastic response slams to the front of Brock’s mind, but he holds it back, glancing from the scissors, to the absolutely wrecked apartment, to the ripped-open shirt that’s hanging from Jefferson’s body, his flushed torso marred with scratches from where he tried to tear fabric but met with only skin. In over his fucking head doesn’t _begin_ to cover it, but he can’t even bring himself to be shocked.

“You keep asking me to be here, so I’m here,” he mutters, holding his hands up in what he hopes is a sign of good faith. Jefferson’s not buying it, fresh tears welling in his eyes and clinging to his eyelashes as he grips the scissors tighter.

“Why!?” His voice cracks as he raises it, and tears spill over onto his cheeks. He teeters on the edge towards anger, jaw clenching to grind his teeth, before his voice falls back to a whisper, small and scared. “Why bother…” It ends in a pathetic little hitch, and Brock risks a step forward, hands still raised, thinking the storm’s passed and Jefferson’s about to give up.

He is so, so wrong…

“ _Get back!_ ” The growl is a sound he’s never heard from the omega before. Angry, afraid. Brock freezes at once, nodding slightly as he steps back again. Point made.

“Come on, put those down,” he attempts. Jefferson’s having none of it.

“NO!” The screech rings in his ears, jolting him back. A spike in the omega’s fearscent is enough to raise his own heart rate. 

“Look, if you don’t want—”

“Shut up!” Jefferson’s the one who moves this time, stepping closer to Brock but tucking his arm closer into the side of his body. Brock keeps careful watch on the blades. He’s got no reason to be afraid, not when he knows he can easily disarm Jefferson if he has to. But he’d really rather he didn’t have to.

And then Jefferson changes, his mouth twisting into a gross parody of a smile, and Brock feels a chill grip his spin. He’s used to the rapid shifts in mood, but no one should smile like that.

“I don’t need to hear you lie,” Jefferson whispers, eyes wide and blank as they stare right through Brock. The air hangs thick and silent now, the way it does after the blast of a bomb. Already awaiting the next explosion. “I know why you’re here…”

“Do you?” Brock low voice echoes through the quiet and it’s enough to make Jefferson’s eyes fix on him, flashing dangerously.

“You’re here because I’m easy.” The smile again, warped and grotesque around his soft voice. “Because all you alphas know that I’m good for one thing, and you think you can’t get it from me without a fight.” Brock bites down on his tongue, something ugly curdling in his stomach. Jefferson isn’t exactly wrong… The omega’s eyes glaze over again, his grip on the scissors tightening once more. “You all think you can just hold me down and use me…knock me up with another baby I can’t keep, and I won’t be able to do a damn thing…”

“Another?” The shock is enough to break Brock’s silence. Jefferson’s wide eyes meet his gaze, blown dark with adrenaline and glinting with anger, yet softened by new tears. Brock presses his luck. “You had a kid?” 

“Shut up!” Jefferson yells, tears spilling anew before he doubles over, his face screwed up at the effort of shrieking something Brock can’t even parse as words. Brock has to resist the urge to cover his ears, lest any wrong move push Jefferson to violence. He’s close enough as it is. When the omega finally quiets, his voice has broken into sobs that clash with the resonating of every bit of glass in the apartment. 

“She never would’ve had a chance…” Jefferson whispers, his gaze lost in middle distance. His tears are flowing steadily now, and Brock’s blood goes cold when he sees that Jefferson’s got the scissors pointed towards his own stomach now, the tip just barely pressing into his exposed skin. “She would’ve been just like me and never had a chance because of alphas like you…”

“Jefferson, stop…” Jefferson actually looks confused for a moment, before he follows Brock’s gaze down to the scissors. A sad little laugh that turns Brock’s stomach rings through the air, and when Jefferson looks up he’s got a sad little smile to match.

“Maybe I should stop lying to myself—”

“Put them down.”

“Why?” Jefferson laughs again, flexing his hand around the scissors as he presses them harder into his stomach, his lip pulled between his teeth. “I tried cutting last time…” He glances up at Brock with the eyes of a child, desperate and lost, the tilt of his head exposing his scars as explanation. “Do you think this would work better?”

Brock doesn’t wait to find out, lunging just as Jefferson pulls the scissors back in preparation to stab, knocking them from his hand so they skitter across the floor. Jefferson’s fist comes down hard against the side of Brock’s head, but he’s unfazed, spinning Jefferson around and locking the omega’s arms against his chest, even as his head rings from the impact and Jefferson’s screaming. 

It’s not worth it to try and quiet him, he’s not about to force the already traumatized omega into silence, so Brock let’s him struggle, let’s him scream, and finds himself murmuring in Jefferson’s ear “I’ve got you, you’re ok” in what he prays is a soothing voice.

It’s all over in a few minutes, when Jefferson suddenly turns to dead weight in his arms, dragging them both to the floor. The thought that the omega’s passed out flashes through his mind, until he hears the weak sobbing and feels Jefferson shaking in his hold.

More crying…it’s better than the alternatives he’s seen so far.

“Breathe,” he murmurs, and at his behest Jefferson draws in a long shaky breath, letting it back out in choked whimpers. Brock takes one arm from around Jefferson’s middle and carefully brushes the omega’s hair back from where it’s clinging to his damp forehead and cheeks. But Jefferson ducks his face from view and squirms against from the arm still pinning him. When Brock lets go, he crumples, face down, to the floor, curling in on himself as he trembles. It’s worse than Brock’s ever seen him.

They stay that way for a while, Brock kneeling over Jefferson’s pitiful little form as he lets him cry out the rest of his fight. Clearly he hasn’t showered in at least a couple days. Probably hasn’t eaten in just as long… His curls hang stringy and limp over his dull eyes—sickly green now in the shadow from his bangs. The color shifts often, he’s noticed. Really, it would’ve been silly for someone like Jefferson to have such a normal eye color as grey.

“You got any food in the place?” Brock asks as he shrugs off his coat, laying it over Jefferson’s body. He’s unsurprised when Jefferson just shrugs. The omega’s staring blankly again, there’s a good chance he didn’t even really hear the question. Pushing himself to his feet, Brock detours to grab the cast-away scissors before heading to the little kitchen, where he stows them on a high shelf. They're quickly join by every other sharp object he comes across, just to be safe. 

He glances back over his shoulder when he hears Jefferson move, sighing as he watches the omega push himself up on shaky arms and put hand to he forehead with a pained expression. Water, then, since he’s had no luck finding anything edible. Brock grabs a glass, fingers tapping impatiently against the side of it as he waits for it to fill under the faucet.

“Drink. We don’t need you dehydrated,” he mutters as he kneels down next to Jefferson again and presses the glass into his hand, being sure the omega has a good grip before he lets go. He’s made that mistake before, and Jefferson’s breakdown over a broken cup isn’t an experience he’s dying to relive. Especially not when he’s got so much barreling through his head already after what Jefferson admitted to. The omega takes an obedient sip, turning to burrow into Brock’s chest, away from the chilly air of the apartment. If the storm hasn’t completely passed, they’re at least in the eye of it.

“Why are you here?” Brock raises an eyebrow at the question as he looks down at the shivery body pressed against his own. Some kind of protective instinct prods him to pull his coat tighter around Jefferson’s body before wrapping an arm over his shoulders.

“You asked me to come,” he replies simply. “You remember that, right?”

“My memory’s not fucked up yet,” Jefferson retorts. Brock rolls his eyes and nudges the water glass until Jefferson takes another sip. He sighs after swallowing, his heated breath fogging up the glass that still pressed to his lip. “I meant why do you even bother to come when I ask you to…”

Brock opens his mouth, but when he finds he has no ready answer, settles for closing his teeth around his tongue, just enough to prick. Not like he can admit he almost didn’t come this time. He bites a little harder to avoid imagining what might’ve happened if he’d decided to be a coward about it. Jefferson’s watching him, waiting for an answer. 

“Guess I just don’t see any reason not to?” his voice trails up into a question and he wants to kick himself for it. 

“Plenty of reasons not to,” Jefferson mutters. His gaze drifts off to nothing on the floor a few feet away. “I’m not worth it for one…”

“Don’t say shit like that.”

“Why not?” comes Jefferson’s wry response. “I’m just trouble you don’t need.”

“How about you let me decide what trouble I do and do not need,” Brock mutters. Jefferson sets his teeth on the glass. They’re crooked in front, it’s kind of endearing. “If you’re just going to gnaw on that cup, I’m going to take it away from you.” That gets Jefferson’s attention enough for him to stop biting, and he glances up shyly before drinking again. Brock chuckles at the innocence of it, shaking his head. “Are you gonna tell me why you decided to attack me with a pair of scissors?”

Jefferson shrugs, avoiding his gaze. “They were the first thing I could find I guess…”

“Don’t be cute,” Brock snorts. “You know what I meant.”

Once again, Jefferson shrugs, his thumb rubbing harshly against the glass in his hand. “I got angry…” he finally murmurs. “I thought you might hurt me…”

“Have I ever hurt you before?”

“Alphas just like you have.”

As ever, Brock’s stomach turns over at the mention of other alphas having even been _near_ Jefferson, and his hand grips the omega’s arm a little more tightly. “Fair enough,” he sighs, chewing on the inside of his cheek. He’s got no right… “So why keep calling me and taking the risk?”

“Don’t have anybody else to call.” It’s the answer he expected. 

It’s quiet while Brock lets Jefferson finish off the water, and the omega doesn’t seem to mind the quiet, his his head tucked comfortably under Brock’s chin. He’s always cuddly when he’s not screaming and kicking over furniture.

“I’m sorry it’s such a mess,” Jefferson finally whispers, and Brock has to laugh at how their thoughts managed to line up. “I know that bothers you…”

“I’ll live,” he sighs. “Besides, it’ll give me something to do while you’re showering and getting some rest.”

Jefferson smiles weakly, tugging at a lock of his hair. “You’re staying?”

“Might as well, I’m already here.”

“You don’t have work?”

Fuck. 

He does have work. He grimaces as he pulls out his phone to check the time. “Not for a couple hours,” he sighs. “So you go shower, I’ll find food since you’re out again.”

“I forget, I’m sorry…”

“You don’t have to apologize to me,” Brock shrugs. “Now really, go shower.”

Jefferson stands as reluctantly as Brock pulls his arm from around the omega’s body, watching him make his way to the bathroom on unsteady legs. As soon as he hears the water running, he picks up his phone again. Pizza is easy enough to call for, and definitely preferable to risking another breakdown while he’s gone…

After that first time, he learned very quickly that leaving without warning doesn’t end well.

Food arrives just a few minutes before Jefferson comes out from the bathroom, wrapped in a towel and smelling like sugared lavender as the scent of his soap mixes the the scent of his heat. Brock’s one moment of weakness away from burying his face in the omega’s hair and saying ‘screw you’ to his job altogether.

But the bags under Jefferson’s eyes and the way his stomach protests loudly at the smell of food are enough to make him hold back, putting all his energy into meticulously arranging books on a previously overturned shelf as Jefferson bundles himself in pajamas and settles into eating on the bed. 

“You have to go soon?”

Brock glances up to meet Jefferson’s nervous expression. “Yeah, ‘fraid so.”

“Are you planning on coming back?”

“I don’t get off until late, you sure you want me coming here?”

Jefferson looks away, picking at the corner of the pizza box. Brock barely catches what he whispers: “I don’t know what might happen…” As if Brock needed another reason to not want to leave.

“Right…” he sighs. Looks like his next few days are all booked up. “Yeah, I’ll come back once my shift’s over. You need anything until then?”

Jefferson shrugs, and Brock sees his dimples winking in his cheeks as a little smile flashes across his face. “Maybe for you to tie me to the bed so I don’t do anything stupid.”

Brock very nearly chokes on air, but when he meets Jefferson’s gaze, despite the smile, there’s not nearly enough humor in the omega’s eyes for him to find a way to laugh.

“You say that like it’s happened before…”

Clearly, Jefferson thought he was doing a better job of putting on a show, because as soon as he’s called out, the smile falls and he looks away. Brock waits for him to say something, anything to fill the silence. “Did your parents do that to you or something?”

Jefferson hesitates, lips parted, but his voice is either uncertain or unwilling. “I…” he starts, only faltering a moment. “I don’t have parents.”

“Oh…” the lame syllable hangs in the air for a few seconds as Brock scrambles for recovery. “Ok, uh…my bad…so…?”

“I was left at a police station as a baby,” Jefferson continues when Brock fails to complete a sentence. “Grew up as in the foster system.” He pauses again with unfocused eyes, like he’s too busy seeing memories to look at what’s in front of him. “Group homes have a lot of kids to deal with, they didn’t have time to put up with me throwing fits.”

“So they tied you to a bed?”

“Only sometimes, when I got really bad.”

“Jesus Christ…”

Jefferson gives a little laugh. “I think they were worried about be running off and getting pregnant,” he shakes his head, his face the mirror image of a smile, all form, no substance. “Joke ended up being on them in that regard…”

Brock’s dumbstruck, unprepared for the sudden openness, and he knows it’s showing. The only consolation is the bit of amusement that sparks in Jefferson’s eyes when he looks back up. 

“Sorry, ignore my sob story…”

“No, it’s fine, just…fuck…” Brock runs an awkward hand through his hair. “I mean, for what it's worth, I understand being neglected. I had to look out for myself most of my life, 'cause my father was a mean drunk, but..." Jefferson nods slightly, but Brock's pretty sure it doesn't make either of them feel better. There aren't any words of consolation he's ever come across that actually work. "Wish I knew what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything,” Jefferson shrugs. But that’s not about to stop Brock from doing just that as unfortunately as possible.

“So you were just a kid when you—”

“I don’t really want to talk about that.” It’s final, but Jefferson does look a little apologetic. Brock manages a nod. Not like he doesn’t get it… “You’re going to be late.”

Brock curses when a quick glance at his phone proves Jefferson right. “Shit…ok, I’m going,” he mutters, grabbing his coat from where it had ended up tossed over the back of a chair. “And you know—if you need to—call. I’m not saving the world or anything important like that.”

“Right…” Brock looks up just in time to see a curious expression cross Jefferson’s face.

“What?”

“Nothing.” Brock finds himself grinning at the clipped response, and at the way Jefferson lowers his eyes.

“If you say so,” he shrugs. “I’ll see you when I get back.” 

“Ok.” That same expression, a funny little furrow of his brow and curl of his mouth. 

“Don’t you dare tell me that’s nothing,” Brock chuckles.

Jefferson refuses to look up, but there’s a little color rising in his cheeks. “You sound so domestic…” Fucking hell.

Brock’s first instinct is to protest. To shout that, no, he and ‘domestic’ do not go together under any circumstances. But Jefferson raises his head, freshly toweled curls falling into his eyes as he looks up with uncertainty, and Brock just doesn’t have the heart to fight about it.

“Don’t remind me,” he laughs, caustic, turning on his heel and heading for the door. Jefferson doesn’t say another word as he leaves.

******

When Jefferson’s heat hits full force, domestic goes right out the window. 

Words leave them first, replaced by moans and growls and cries, and then thoughts altogether leave as well, so they’re left with only a haze of sweat and skin and slick as their bodies come together again and again and again, hours lost as they lose themselves to pleasure. 

Brock, for one, couldn’t be happier. He knows how to fuck, after all. It’s simple, he’s good at it, and having Jefferson a whimpering mess beneath him is a high he’s sure he’ll never get tired of riding.

Finally, they hit a lull, a chance to breathe after what’s surely been at least a day. Time is always the last thing on Brock’s mind once he’s between Jefferson’s legs, but he’s grateful for the moment to think as he finds his mind clearing, blind hormonal drive abating, even as he’s still knotted inside Jefferson’s body.

The omega’s in his lap, his breath just beginning to even out, and scent of heat has nearly faded from his skin, marking an end to the peak of his cycle. Brock smiles as he presses Jefferson close, breathing deep that telltale scent for what could be the last time this month, before shifting forward. It’s not an ideal position to be tied in but he’s careful as he lays Jefferson down on the bed, settling on top of him.

He’s very surprised to find wide eyes looking back into his own.

“Oh…” He’s at just as much of a loss as Jefferson seems to be as they blink at each other. “You’re…not passed out.”

“I-I guess not,” Jefferson manages after a few moments, stumbling over his own uncertainty. “Is that what usually happens?”

He’s still not used to it, the sudden shifts between Jefferson and omega-in-heat. But this is definitely Jefferson—clear-eyed, reserved, normal Jefferson—looking back at him. “Yeah, actually,” he sighs, propping himself up so there’s some distance between their chests. A courtesy, and an illusion. “You’re usually out cold in seconds.”

“Sorry…” Brock has to roll his eyes. Jefferson _would_ apologize for that…

“Nothing to be sorry for,” he mutters. “It’s not so bad, saves us the trouble of, well, this…”

As soon as the words are out of Brock’s mouth, Jefferson seems to suddenly become aware of the knot still inside him, his eyes darting down to where they’re connected, then leaping across the room, blinking rapidly as he draws a shaky breath. 

“You’re…” 

Brock has to resist the urge to pull away when he hears Jefferson’s nervous tone. He’ll only hurt them both if he tries, though Jefferson’s rejection smarts pretty badly all on its own. 

“Yeah, gonna be a few minutes,” he grunts, focusing his attention on pulling the blanket up around them as best he can. If he’d ever, even for a moment, forgotten that Jefferson’s still nearly a stranger to him, reality is punching him in the stomach with it right now. Knotting does serve a more basic, biological purpose when it comes to reproducing, but beyond that, it’s meant to be a time for building the foundation of a relationship—a bond ideally. It’s one of the most intimate positions possible, and he’s locked into it with someone he’s had only a handful of conversations with. 

He might not be complaining if Jefferson’s didn’t look desperate to bury himself under a blanket and never come out. He’s already got his arms crossed over his chest, like that can do anything to hide him. Soft, pale eyes are still fixed across the room, and full lips are so wrongly pressed into a thin line. When Brock sees the strain in his jaw, he realizes Jefferson’s probably biting down on his tongue, like he does when he’s scared and trying not to show it…

“Am I hurting you?” Not like it’s impossible, but really, anything to fill the silence. Jefferson hesitates, looking down before shaking his head and glancing up at Brock through his eyelashes. Shy. It never fails to make Brock grin, and with that encouragement, he keeps talking. “If it makes you feel any better, I’m not used to this sort of thing either.” That pulls a little smile out of Jefferson, the faintest crinkle around his expressive eyes. Brock’s more relieved than he wants to admit. 

“You’ve knotted people before though, right?”

Brock chuckles at the blunt question asked in so innocent a voice, only swallowing the sound when the vibration through his body makes Jefferson’s eyes widen. “No, actually,” he mutters, clearly his throat. “Alphas and betas, most of the time they can’t handle it.”

Jefferson nods, his brows knitting together for a moment. “And I’m your first omega?” 

“You have that honor.” There’s only one lamp casting light from across the room, but it’s enough for Brock to see pale pink dust across Jefferson’s cheeks. 

“Have you…”

“Yeah?” Brock presses when Jefferson trails off. The omega let’s out a little huff of a laugh as his dimples dot in his cheeks. Something good…

“Have you really been with other alphas?”

A smirk breaks out across Brock’s face. It’s a pretty common question, but it’s the very uncommon setting he’s entertained by. “Asking me about my sexual history is your idea of pillow-talk?”

Much to his surprise, Jefferson only shrugs. “I’m just curious, I mean…” The dimples peak out again and Jefferson’s cheeks glow with color. “That’s has to be intense.”

Brock barks a laugh, and they both feel it, but this time Jefferson isn’t so shocked, easily riding the wave between them. “I guess so,” Brock grins, then shrugs. “I don’t know. Everybody likes different stuff, but I guess sex is sex at the end of the day, you know?” 

Jefferson nods, but there’s a few moments of pause. Brock narrows his eyes as he watches the hesitation shift through Jefferson’s face, putting frown lines on his forehead.

“What is it?”

“Nothing,” Jefferson quickly responds, shaking his head. 

Another moment of pause, and Brock has to tap into that patience he’s been learning just to deal with Jefferson’s wandering thoughts and moments of uncertainty.

“You can relax if you want,” Jefferson finally murmurs, tipping his head towards Brock’s extended arms. “Can’t be comfortable holding yourself up like that.”

Brock raises an eyebrow. It’s shift, but a welcome one, so he lets it go. “Thanks” seems like an appropriate answer as he lets his arms bend, settling down so he’s chest to chest with Jefferson once again. The omega relaxes in turn, his legs falling open a little more, and his hands move from his chest, fluttering a moment before allowing his fingertips to perch on Brock’s shoulders. A gentle nod, and his hands actually find purchase. “You can still breathe?”

“I can still breathe,” Jefferson smiles, drawing in a slow breath as if to prove his point. As he lets it out, his whole body seems to ease deeper into the bed, nestling them both into a cocoon of blankets and pillows. “You’re warm.”

“Not really, it’s just fucking cold in this apartment,” Brock smirks. Jefferson rolls his eyes. The quiet’s punctuated now by the rhythm of Jefferson’s heartbeat, steady against Brock’s chest. His eyes fix on the pulse point of Jefferson’s neck, thrumming under the soft, inviting expanse of his skin. He has to avert his eyes, and when he looks up, he finds Jefferson studying him.

“You like what you see or something?”

Jefferson has the grace to blush, but there’s no shyness in his voice. “Actually,” he grins. “I was just thinking that you have really nice eyes.”

And for once it’s Brock’s turn to be embarrassed. His laugh is dry, and a reply doesn’t come fast enough. Jefferson notices.

“Hasn’t anybody ever said that to you before?”

“Not really,” Brock finally grumbles, swallowing heavily. “They’re just brown, nothing special.”

“Not really.” Jefferson mimics—still grinning—before his voice softens once again. “They’re more honey-colored, it’s nice.”

Gratitude shouldn’t be nearly this hard to force out. “Right—uh, thanks…” he mutters, wracking his brain for something to say. When words finally come, it’s too much, too fast. “Yours are nice too. Your eyes… Can’t really say about the color though. I thought they were grey at first, but they keep changing on me and now I can’t tell.”

Jefferson’s face is exactly the mixture of surprise and amusement he’d expected. Brock would probably find this hilarious himself, if he weren’t the one making a fool of himself.

“Someone’s been paying attention.”

“Well I have been spending a lot of time in very close quarters with you,” Brock mutters as an excuse. Jefferson nods agreeably, still with a bemused little smile. “So are you going to share with me what color your eyes are meant to be? Since you’re the expert…”

Jefferson purses his lips—Brock deserves it—but acquiesces. “They are grey most of the time,” he sighs. “They change depending on the light, what I’m wearing…sometimes on my mood, I think.”

“They’re green when you’re really tired or upset.”

“Really?”

Brock nods, chewing on his tongue.

“What color are they now?”

Brock hadn’t realized he’d been looking away until he’s invited to make eye contact, his gaze slowly wandering to meet Jefferson’s as dark lashes flutter at him expectantly. “Kind of purple,” he decides after a moment, then chuckles as a memory asserts itself. “Like that beret you were wearing when we met at that cafe?”

He says it as a reference point only, but as soon as he hears it in his own voice, hanging in the air, accusatory, he’s ready to punch himself in the face on principle of self-respect alone.

“You remember the color of the _hat_ I was wearing when we met?”

Brock’s eyes squeeze shut for a moment. It had sounded bad in his own voice; it’s sounds so much worse in Jefferson’s. 

“To be fair, that’s all I remember about what you were wearing…”

“Oh good, because anything else would be unforgivably strange.” Sarcasm is thick in Jefferson’s voice as humor twinkles in his eyes, and Brock, in spite of his bruised ego, has to smile.

“Lavender berets aren’t the sort of thing you see every day, you know.”

“Honestly, I’m just surprised you know the word ‘beret’.” Brock wants so badly to be annoyed, but Jefferson’s giggling… It’s more light than he’s ever seen in the omega’s face.

“Why?” he teases back. “Because I’m just some grunt alpha who shouldn’t know those kinds of fancy French words?”

“Exactly.” 

“I’ll have you know, a beret was part of my dress uniform in the military.” The arch of Jefferson’s eyebrows is almost derisive. Almost. It’s softened by the smile that’s curling ear to ear.

“I’m sure you looked very handsome in it,” he murmurs.

“I’ve been told so.”

“You’ll have to show me sometime…”

The brush of Jefferson’s lips against his own is all it takes to break the spell. A gentle touch, but all of a sudden he’s keenly aware of how they’re pressed close—much closer than they need to be—how he can feel Jefferson’s breathless giggle ghosting against his skin, how those pale lavender eyes gaze up at him, eager and wanting, and then as uncertain as he’s sure his own are. 

He pulls back, finding no resistance as he eases away from Jefferson’s body, chilly air rushing to fill the space between them. Numbly, he gets rid of the used condom, only glancing back when he hears the rustle of blankets. Jefferson’s balled up the quilt around him, tucking the remaining warmth in close, eyes only for the pillow where he rests his head. 

“You should have something to drink,” Brock mutters. Considering how they’ve both been burning hot these past few hours, they both should. Jefferson glances up, just a timid pair of eyes buried in the bed. 

“Can you make tea?”

“Yeah.” Yeah, that’s probably the least he can do. 

He finds his underwear halfway across the room, putting them on as more of a courtesy than anything else. The cold air on his skin is doing him good, but Jefferson still has a tendency to avoid looking at him when he’s completely naked. 

Once the kettle is on the stove, and he’s got a glass of water in his hand, he turns to lean against the counter, eyes finding Jefferson. The omega’s sitting up now, having moved closer to the window near the foot of the bed. When he nudges the curtain out of the way, the light from the moon and street lamps outside falls on his face, cool blue against his fair skin.

“What’cha looking at?”

“Nothing…”

Brock snorts. “Nothing must be awfully interesting.” Jefferson slides a look out of the corner of his eye before sighing.

“I just like seeing what’s going on around me,” he murmurs, turning his attention back to whatever’s going on outside. “People-watching, you know?”

“Never saw the appeal.” Brock tilts his head as he watches Jefferson. “What people are you watching from your bedroom window anyhow?”

“Lots actually.” Jefferson’s smile curls it’s way across his face. “Across the street there’s an older woman who lives with her granddaughter. They’re always fighting, I think it’s about the granddaughter dresses.” His eyes drift up. “Above them, a few doors down, there’s a widower. Though I think he’s started dating someone. Haven’t seen who yet, but he’s been whole lot happier recently.”

“You can tell all that just from peaking in through a window?”

This time Jefferson’s smile is all for Brock. “I’ve gotten pretty good over the years,” he says before his eyes turn dreamy, far-away. “Always being in new places, surrounded by strangers, you look for little windows into their worlds. Helps me not feel so alone.”

Brock’s never been more grateful to hear the sound of water boiling, quickly turning to attend to the vibrating kettle. “Must’ve been rough,” he mutters lamely. He gets the lack of response he deserves from Jefferson. 

He grabs his shirt on the way back to the bed, slipping it on once he’s handed Jefferson his tea. The omega clasps both hands around the offered mug, holding it close to his chest like always, a little furnace to keep him warm, and leans his head against the wall. Brock reclines on the bed, tucking a pillow under his arm for want of something to do.

“You were asking about me getting pregnant earlier…”

Brock’s head shoots up at the soft words, unable to hide his surprise. “You don’t have to tell me about that.”

Jefferson raises an eyebrow. “You don’t want to know?”

“Well I didn’t say that…” He definitely wants to know. He’s dying to know. “That’s just really fucking personal, and you don’t owe me any kind of explanation.”

Jefferson nods, looking down into his cup. “And if I just want to tell you?”

“I’m not gonna stop you.”

Jefferson watches Brock for a moment before a sad smile ghosts across his face and he looks down again. “I was seventeen,” he starts, and Brock sits up a little straighter. “One of the guys who worked in the group home where I was living found where they were hiding me during my heats and…took advantage.” Instantly, Brock feels rage, white hot, twist in his stomach. He doesn’t want to picture it, but he can: Jefferson, young and tied up, vulnerable…

“I knew it was the same guy because he was always staring at me, and when I turned up pregnant he tried to claim me.”

“He raped you and thought you’d be his mate afterwards?” Brock’s about three seconds away from tracking this guy down himself. “Tell me he’s in prison…”

“I wish I could,” Jefferson sighs. “The bond didn’t take, obviously, and he was fired from the home, but the police said that because I was in heat, it wasn’t his fault. Instinct made him do it.”

“That’s bullshit—”

“You don’t have to tell me.” Jefferson’s calm diffuses into Brock, tamping down the murderous, protective urge that’s welling up in him. “I actually thought about keeping the baby at first, but it would’ve been selfish. I couldn’t be a parent, she’d’ve been in the system soon enough, just like me.”

“‘She’…” Brock repeats. “how do you know the sex?” The question’s out too fast, and he regrets asking. Jefferson’s eyes are glazed with memories, and he’s curled up against the wall, tiny. 

“Once they’d finished the whole procedure, I asked if they’d been able to tell,” he whispers. “The doctor didn’t want to say, thought it would just make things harder, but I insisted and one of the nurses finally told me it was a girl.”

Jefferson’s shoulders have started to quiver, and not just from cold. Brock sits up when he sees it, but hesitates. Jefferson doesn’t, shifting closer until he can rest his head against Brock’s shoulder. It’s only a moment before Brock chilled by the feeling of wetness against his skin.

“I’m sorry…” he murmurs, wishing he had something better, anything better, to say.

“You don’t have to be sorry,” Jefferson shrugs. “I gave her her best chance. She deserved better than this world.”

Brock nods, numb with shock. He doesn’t know what he was expecting, but it wasn’t this. Jefferson nuzzles closer. Brock puts an arm loosely around him. “So you never regretted it?”

Jefferson shakes his head. “No…” He sighs a little. Brock waits. “I just wish things would’ve been different, you know? That the first time I got pregnant, I would’ve been able to be happy about it.”

“Yeah,” Brock mutters. It’s for show. He doesn’t understand, he could never—

“Thank you.”

His thoughts are interrupted, and when he looks down, Jefferson leans away to look back. He’s no longer shaking, and the only wetness on his face is in tiny droplets glistening on his eyelashes.

“Why thank me?”

“For listening,” Jefferson smiles, glancing down to where he’s still holding the mug in his lap. “I’ve never had anybody I could talk to about it.”

Brock nods again, flashing a faint, wry grin. “Sorry that I’m your best option.” Jefferson just keeps smiling.

“You’re not so bad…”

Brock shakes his head, sighing heavily. “If you say so…” He expects a response, but when none comes he looks down, only to see Jefferson’s face screwed up in what looks like pain. “Hey, you alright?” 

And then he catches it, the scent of heat resurging on Jefferson’s skin, a bright flush creeping across his cheeks and down his neck.

“Fuck…” Jefferson whines, and Brock quickly takes the cup that’s threatening to drop from Jefferson’s trembling fingers, getting it out of the way. Jefferson’s hands immediately fly to his head, grasping at his hair as he whimpers again.

“Hey, it’s alright, calm down.” Brock hears the slight tremor in his own voice and quickly tries to clear it away. “It’s just another heat wave.”

“I thought I was done…” Jefferson groans, resistant as Brock pries his fingers from where they’re tangled roughly in his hair.

“It’s probably just a little one,” Brock sighs. This has happened once before, Jefferson’s heat faking out, making them think it was over before it actually was. Always at the worse times… “Breathe, you’re gonna be fine.”

Jefferson pulls in a shaky, gripping tight to Brock’s hands now, nails biting into skin. “I wanted it to be over…” he whimpers pitifully. 

“Yeah, I know,” Brock replies. Sex was the last thing on his mind too, even though his body’s starting to react to Jefferson’s. “We don’t have to do anything, it’ll pass on it’s own.” That’s true, but heat doesn’t go without a fight. Jefferson knows as much, looking up at Brock with wide, nervous eyes. He pulls his hands out of Brock’s grasp, reaching for his chest. Brock let’s his hands slide across Jefferson’s arms, down to his waist. 

“You want it too…?”

“I’m not gonna make you,” Brock insists. He’s better than his nature, he has to be. 

“It’ll hurt too much to wait it out.” Jefferson’s clinging to him now, and Brock allows him into his lap. The omega’s eyes are starting to glaze over, shimmering in the low light. And then there’s a flash of sobriety that makes Brock’s grip on Jefferson’s waist tighten. “Just be gentle? I’m still sore from…”

Brock’s heart sinks in his chest as Jefferson trails off and looks away. He can only imagine the strain it must put on Jefferson’s body to be taken again and again. He can do this much. “Yeah, of course,” he murmurs, getting a careful hold on Jefferson as he turns to lay him out on the bed. The omega goes without a fight, his arms falling limp against the bed as he opens his legs for Brock. It should be a beautiful, tempting image, but Brock can’t take his eyes off Jefferson’s face, off his nervous little frown and averted eyes.

He deserves so much better than this. He deserves to feel wanted, not obligated.

He presses his lips to Jefferson’s neck, just under the curve of his jaw, smiling to himself when he hears a little gasp. Jefferson loves having that spot lavished, he goes absolutely mad for it. Brock runs his tongue over the sensitive skin, drawing out a soft moan as his hand moves across Jefferson’s chest, just barely brushing his nipples before dipping down and skating across the inside of his thigh. He’s soft, so soft everywhere, perfect for holding and caressing, and so, so sweet. His scent, his taste, his voice. Brock could drown himself in all of it and die happy.

He’s no longer afraid to leave little marks, ever since Jefferson told him he didn’t mind, and sucks the soft skin between his lips, grazing his teeth against it lightly until Jefferson starts squirming, hands grabbing at the pillow, and whimpering louder.

“Easy…” he urges, running gentle kisses down Jefferson’s neck. The omega obediently goes still. When Brock pulls back, he sees Jefferson’s eyes glazed over, lost to his heat once again. There’s a sinking in his chest at the sight that he really doesn’t like, so he ignores it, leaning down again to cover Jefferson’s chest with kisses. Jefferson may no longer be squirming, but his voice won’t quiet, letting out little purrs each time Brock’s lips touch his skin, and whining softly if his teeth sneak out to make contact as well.

He nudges Jefferson’s thighs further apart, smirking to himself when Jefferson whines petulantly. “I know, beautiful,” he purrs, glancing up to see Jefferson craning his neck to look down at him. He holds eye contact as he flicks his tongue out against Jefferson’s cock, smirking when the omega’s eyes go wide and he chokes on a moan. Encouraged, he skates his tongue up the length, and Jefferson whines so prettily, even as Brock kisses just under his navel.

“W-what…?” Brock looks up again when he hears the tiny, broken-off question, his gaze falling on eyes that are caught halfway between confusion and bliss.

“I’m taking care of you,” he smiles in reply. When Jefferson still looks unsure, he leans back. “Do you want me to stop?”

“No!” Brock chuckles at the insistence, settling back down between Jefferson’s legs without hesitation. He sets his tongue to work again on Jefferson’s cock, teases him with little flicks against the tip and slow drags along the shaft that have the omega whimpering in no time. Brock has to keep one of Jefferson’s legs pinned down against the bed, lest his head be crushed. He’s hardly complaining though, especially when he begins to feel slick smearing on his cheek each time he dips lower.

When his tongue slips down further, the omega’s entire body jolts with a cry that Brock almost takes to be pain, until he sees his face, flushed dark and desperate, hips pushing up for more. Brock gives it to him, laving long strokes over Jefferson’s entrance, gather slick on his tongue, warm and primal. Jefferson’s quivering now, mouth hanging open as he gasps for air around his moaning. Out of nowhere, his hand flies down, landing on top of the one Brock already has pressed against his thigh, searching, grasping. Brock allows their fingers to intertwine as he slips his tongue inside the omega’s willing body. Another tremor rocks through Jefferson, enough to make him clamp down on Brock’s tongue as it moves smoothly in and out of him.

“I…” Jefferson’s voice breaks off into another weak cry and Brock’s squeezes his hand gently. In seconds, his whole body arches as he comes, more slick dripping onto Brock’s eager tongue. He keeps licking through Jefferson’s orgasm, only pulling back when the omega starts to whimper again. He wipes his mouth on the back of his hand before leaning down again, working his way back up the omega’s body with slow kisses, tasting the sweat and heatscent shining on skin, and quieting his trembling with soft touches.

Jefferson’s eyes are already clearing by the time they’re face to face again, and Brock smiles at the look of amazement he’s met with. “See? I told you it was just a little one.”

Jefferson nods, still a little breathless as he searches Brock’s face with a gaze that Brock swear he can feels on his skin.

“You gonna say anything?” he finally mutters, shifting uncomfortably. Jefferson seems to shake himself, blinking away the last of the far-away look in his eyes. 

“I just…I didn’t think you were finished.”

“You look pretty finished to me,” Brock smiles.

“No I mean—” Jefferson’s questioning eyes pin him. “What about you? Don’t you need…?”

“Nah, I’ll live,” Brock sighs. Is it tempting? Of course. But Jefferson’s been through enough. “I’ve gotten more than my fair share already.” He watches Jefferson’s mouth open, then close, then turn out of his view as the omega seems to fret over something. What, he has no idea. “Alright, now you’re making me nervous…”

“Sorry,” Jefferson quickly apologizes. When he turns back, his eyes are soft, confused. “It’s just…no one’s ever done that before. Only cared about me…”

It shouldn’t be as surprising as it is, considering how Jefferson’s gone on and on about the alphas that have treated him badly over the years. Maybe it isn’t the words so much. Maybe it’s how Jefferson’s eyes seem to fix on his, how a tender smile forms on his face…how a delicate hand sneaks over to grab his own, fingers slowly intertwining…

This isn’t what he signed up for. That thought pounds against his skull as he looks down at their joined hands. His skin starts to go numb where Jefferson’s touching it, and when he realizes Jefferson’s moving closer he yanks away.

“You don’t want to kiss me?” The sadness in Jefferson’s voice is enough to make him guilty, not to change his mind.

“You don’t want me kissing you after where my mouth’s been,” he grunts. Jefferson’s unperturbed.

“I don’t care.” Before Brock can protest, Jefferson’s lips are pressed against his own, chaste and gentle. He’s going to be sick.

“You need to rest,” he insists, jerking away again. Jefferson’s brow furrows, but he does lay his head down against the pillow. Brock moves to get up.

“Where are you going?”

“Just to the bathroom,” Brock mutters, not looking back as he darts into the adjoining room. As soon as the door shuts he starts splashing cold water on his face, trying to drown the panic building in his chest. 

He can’t deal with this, he just can’t. He didn’t sign up for hand-holding and sweet smiles and tender kisses… If this were his apartment, he’d be breaking things.

He gives it a few minutes before peaking back out into the main room, breathing a sigh of relief when he sees Jefferson asleep on the bed, exhaustion having won out. 

He’s needs to be out of here, now.

As quietly as he can, he throws on his jeans and grabs his coat, quickly checking to make sure he’s got his phone and keys and wallet before he’s sliding out of the door, buttoning his shirt on the way down the stairs.

He tosses his coat into the passenger’s seat, throwing his car into gear and just starting to drive as he pulls out his phone, getting to Jack’s name as quickly as he can.

“Jack?” he demands as soon as he hears the line pick up. “Where are you?”

“It’s four in the fucking morning,” Jack groans. “I’m in bed, like a normal person. What’s going on?”

“I’m coming over,” Brock says, cringing at his own wrecked state in the rearview mirror. “I need a fucking drink…”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is about 90% disgusting fluff and I have zero shame (also these chapters need to stop getting longer because I'm exhausted)

Brock’s been staring at his phone for twenty minutes.

Really, he’s got no one to blame for this whole situation but himself, but that isn’t exactly comforting as he types out, then deletes, then types out the same line of text over and over.

It’s been a week, and he wishes he could say that he’s dealt well with the eruption of bullshit that was running out of Jefferson’s apartment. Wishes he could say he’s given it all some serious thought, and arrived at a mature answer.

But that’s really just not the kind of person he is. 

Someone should give Jack a fucking medal for tolerating him, honestly. He hadn’t asked any questions when Brock had barreled into his home at an obscene hour, just handed him a bottle of whiskey and told him to go crazy.

And Brock had, in a way he hasn’t in a long, long time. Ugly, messy, and pathetic.

Apparently, Jack finally peeled him off the living room floor at around noon, not that he remembers. What he does remember in coming to in the bathroom about twelve hours later, puking his guts out while Jack held him up to make sure he didn’t choke.

Seriously. Give the man a dozen fucking medals for putting up with him.

The whole thing didn’t get any less pathetic as he started to sober up, blubbering that he’s not prepared for this, how he doesn’t want a _real_ relationship…

At the time, he’d been angry about the look of pity on Jack’s face, but he’s giving himself the same look through hindsight. It was nothing but pitiful. 

Which is why he tried to ignore the whole goddamn mess with Jefferson—the hand-holding, the kiss, everything. Tried to repress it all so he could just go over again next month as if nothing ever happened. Easy, straightforward, like the sex this should all be about. That’s what he actually signed up for, right? Emotionless sex to take care of a simple, biological urge.

But that brilliant plan hasn’t exactly been working out for him, starting with the fact that, in his mad dash out of Jefferson’s apartment, he managed to leave his jacket. He can still see it in his head, where it landed, flung over the back of an armchair during a frenzy of undressing.

On paper, that doesn’t sound like a very pressing matter. It’s just a jacket, an old and slightly ratty one at that, with holes in the seams and a zipper that only works half the time. But he’s had the thing since he was a teenager, and realistically, it hasn’t been ‘just a jacket’ in years…

So here he is, like a kid texting their middle school crush for the first time, trying to find a way to ask Jefferson if he can stop by that will somehow come off as both aloof and amiable.

After the ninth erased line, in a fit of frustration, he just gives up and presses ‘call’.

“Oh fuck me…” And, of course, regrets it the moment he realizes what he’s done.

“Hello?”

Jefferson’s voice comes through clear on the other end, even with the phone still just laying in his hand. Fuck.

“Brock?”

_Fuck._

“Yeah, hi!” He clamors to get the phone to his ear, shoving his hair back away from his face. He hasn’t put any effort into it in days and it’s starting to show. “I…didn’t expect you to pick up so fast.” He cringes at his own lie.

“Oh…” They both wait. Brock kicks himself. He couldn’t even write this out, how the hell is he supposed to actually verbalize it?

“Did you need something?” Now or never.

“Yeah, actually,” he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I, uh…” Out with it. “I left my jacket at your apartment. You know, the—”

“The black one you wear like it’s grafted to your skin?” Jefferson’s voice cuts as he completes Brock’s sentence for him. “Yeah, I know it.”

“Yeah…” Brock bites his lip. The bitterness he’s being met with is deserved, every ounce of it. Picking at a fresh wound isn’t doing them any good. “I was wondering if I could come get it from you?”

There’s a few seconds of silence before Jefferson’s sarcasm is pricking through the phone again. “Must be awfully important…”

“It has sentimental value,” Brock clips.

“Did some long lost family member give it to you or something?”

Brock swears he can hear his own teeth grind from how hard his jaw clenches. Jefferson isn’t completely off the mark… “It’s just important to me, ok? I wouldn’t be asking if that weren’t the case.”

A soft sigh resonates from the other end, and Brock has to rest his arm on his knee to stop it bouncing.

“It’ll just take a couple minutes, I swear,” he continues when he gets no response. “Then I won’t bother you again.” Maybe Jefferson’s finally gotten tired of this…

“I’m at work right now,” Jefferson finally murmurs. Tired, definitely. Holding no promise. “It’ll have to be later this afternoon.”

“Sure.” Thankfully, he has the later shift tonight, he thinks, his mind grappling for something to organize around. “I’ll see you then?”

“Yeah. See you—”

Brock hangs up and slams his phone on the table as soon as he’s in the clear, dropping his head down into his hands. Jefferson’s clearly pissed, with good reason of course, and that shouldn’t bother him as much as it does.

He honestly wasn’t even sure Jefferson would remember the little incident that’s been eating him alive for the past week, but from the sound of his voice, he’s pretty sure he does. No way he’d be that upset about just waking up with Brock not there. 

He scrubs his face with his hands before letting out a heavy sigh and grabbing his mug, making a face when he discovers the coffee inside has gone cold. A glance at the clock tells him it’s really too late to be worth making more. The bed felt a little too comfortable that morning, and he spent longer than usual beating his frustrations into his punching bag. His hands are still aching from getting a little sloppy and overzealous, and yet he’s still considering going back for more. Anything to make his brain go quiet for the few hours he still has to wait.

“It’s not a big deal, it’s not a big deal…” he groans, trying to convince himself as he goes to the sink and starts to scrub the coffee mug clean, aggressive enough that his blunt nails scrape rudely along the unvarnished ceramic on the inside. It shouldn’t be a big deal. Just get in, get his fucking jacket, and get the fuck out. Go to work like nothing even happened.

But part of him knows that’s much easier said than done. After all, getting it done involves looking Jefferson in the eye, and he’s not entirely sure that’s something he’s capable of right now. Not when he can still hear the omega’s broken voice—every time things get a little too quiet he hears it—begging to know why Brock didn’t want to kiss him.

He wishes he had. Or at least that he hadn’t rejected the kiss when it came. It took several rounds with the punching bag to finally admit that, his hand stinging with the memory of Jefferson’s touch as he went over the scene again and again in his mind. It wouldn’t have done any harm, probably would’ve been really fucking nice. But he’s just an asshole who doesn’t do nice shit like kissing and cuddling. 

Jefferson deserves more than that, than him and his bullshit.

They’re best bet is to just rip off the bandaid, save themselves any further trouble.

******

He ended up deciding better than to subject his hands to further abuse. He needs those hands, after all. A walk served him better, the cold December air burning some resolve into his skin.

Just get in, and get out. In and out. That’s all.

But all the mantras in the world don’t help him when he’s standing in front of Jefferson’s apartment, the little ‘4a’ on the door glaring at him, accusatory.

He raises his hand, clenching his fist to steady it before knocking twice.

Jefferson opens the door just a few seconds later, and despite all pride, Brock nearly runs back out of the building. There’s no pretending nothing happened now, not when Jefferson is staring right into him.

He’d sounded so angry on the phone, but in person he just looks sad… Pallid, with dark circles under his puffy eyes, his arms wrapped tight around his body, tucked neatly around Brock’s jacket. The doorway’s swallowing his narrow, hunched-over frame. No two ways about it, it’s Brock’s fault he looks like that.

It’s been quiet for so long. Brock chokes on his own breath when he tries to speak.

“H-hey…”

“Hi,” Jefferson whispers back. He tries to hold Brock’s gaze, but falters after just a few seconds, looking down at the jacket in his arms. “I-I figured you wouldn’t want to stay, so I just—”

“Yeah,” Brock finishes for him. “Yeah, I’ve got work so…” Neither of them moves until Brock realizes he should probably take his hands out from where they’re wedged deep in his pockets. As soon as he does, Jefferson shoves the jacket towards him, wrapping his arms back around his body as soon as they’re empty. Brock moves his hands over the bundle of fabric, wishing the familiar texture felt a little more reassuring, before he looks back at Jefferson. But those pretty eyes just dart away from him again.

“You know I was kind of expecting you to scream at me or something…” he mutters, caught between having nothing to say, and desperately wishing that wasn’t the case. 

“Why?” Jefferson brings his arms tighter around his body, like he’s physically trying to hold himself together.

“I don’t know,” he sighs. “You sounded so…” He trails off as he unfolds the jacket and an airy scent wafts up to bathe his tongue. Sweet, warm… Everything stops.

“What?” Brock glances up again when Jefferson questions him, and finds those eyes are nervous when they meet his.

“Why does my jacket smell like you?” The words are out before his mind has even fully wrapped around the idea, but it crystalizes moments later. Jefferson’s scent is on his clothing, not harsh like the scent of heat, but light and inviting. Like Jefferson’s hair in the morning after he’s freshly showered…

Jefferson’s eyes instantly go wide. Cornered. “I-It’s been in my apartment…?” 

“It didn’t get your scent like this just from being in your apartment.” The scent of detergent is there too, attempting to drown out the omega sweetness. Like Jefferson tried to wash it to get his smell off… “Have you been wearing it?”

It’s the only explanation that’s coming to mind, and the look that flashes across Jefferson’s face tells him he’s right.

“It gets cold—”

“I think you’re forgetting that I’ve seen exactly how many sweaters and scarves you have,” Brock interrupts. It’s true, Jefferson’s closet is overflowing with them. His heart-rate picks up. “You don’t need my jacket to keep warm.”

Jefferson opens his mouth again, but whatever he’s about to say dies on his tongue as he looks at Brock. His lower lip trembles slightly before he sucks it between his teeth, his big eyes dark grey under the fluorescent lights. After far too long, he manages a whisper, and Brock can barely make out the words when he does. “It smelled like you…” 

It hits him like a bullet, guilt wrenching in his stomach hard enough to nearly knock him down. 

Jefferson had missed the way he smelled. Maybe even missed the way Brock would put his arms around him to keep him warm. 

Missed _him_. 

Jefferson had wanted him, and Brock wasn’t there, so he made due with the only thing he had…

Suddenly his mind is flooded with a memory of Jefferson with the dark fabric draped around him, how it dwarfed his slim body, hung off him; how Brock’s own alpha scent had washed over his skin, the way it does when they’re in bed together…

Would Jefferson have worn it in bed? It’s soft enough to sleep in, worn with age. Would he have wrapped it tight around him, buried his face in it to breathe in Brock’s scent…

“I’m sorry.” The pleading gasp breaks the spell, and Brock blinks rapidly when he realizes Jefferson’s cowering from him. “Please don’t be angry—”

“I’m not!” When Jefferson flinches back from him, he quickly tries to soften his voice. “I’m not…” he repeats. “Fuck, I couldn’t…I can’t be angry about that…”

Slowly, Jefferson’s eyes raise back up to look at him, guarded. Brock’s so tired of seeing that look on his face, of causing that look.

“You deserve better…”

He doesn’t even realize he’s said it out loud until Jefferson frowns at him. “What do you mean?” 

He swallows heavily. The words are stuck in his throat, bitter and thick. “I mean you deserve better than this, than this bullshit we’ve been trying to make work.”

“I thought it was working…” The hopefulness that’s somehow still clinging to those words sits like a knife in Brock’s chest.

He shakes his head. “Until I ran out on you, of course.”

“Why did you?” 

There’s a tremor in Jefferson’s voice now, and Brock freezes when he sees tears glinting in reddening eyes. 

“Why did you leave like that?” Jefferson begs. “What did I do wrong?”

“Nothing!” Brock insists. Of course Jefferson blames himself. “Jesus Christ, you didn’t do anything wrong—”

“Then why?!” Jefferson grimaces as his voice cracks, and teardrops tremble on his eyelashes. “You were so…” His eyes wander up and Brock knows he’s remembering how they’d been in bed that night, how different it had been from anything else…“And then you just ran out after I tried to—”

“No, don’t you dare blame yourself,” he says firmly. Jefferson watches him, eyes flicking back and forth. Brock presses a hand to his face, ducking away from those eyes. 

“This is what I mean…” he sighs.“You’re a good person, ok?” And then words are spilling out. “You’re gentle and sweet and—fuck—you read poetry.” He laughs at himself despite it all. The image of him with someone who reads poetry, him being able to make that person happy, it’s painfully laughable. “You deserve better than somebody who would run out on you like that.” He drops his head, digging the toe of his shoe into the floor and biting down into his tongue before he can make a bigger fool out of himself. “You don’t want me…”

Silence hangs between them as Brock turns away, preparing himself to leave and never come back.

He’s stopped by a soft hand on his arm, guiding him back until he’s face to face with Jefferson again. Jefferson who’s still fighting back tears, but whose eyes are open and vulnerable,glinting with something…like they’re seeing for the first time.

“Do you remember how you told me I should let you decide what trouble you did and didn’t need?”

Of course he remembers. He remembers every second they’ve spent together, every word, every tear. And standing at this crossroads they’re all flashing through his mind. Not before his eyes though, his eyes are only for Jefferson, for the way he steps closer, the way the heat from his body curls against Brock’s skin, the way he tightens his grip, grounding them both.

“Maybe you should let me decide what, and who, I do and don’t want.”

Just like that, looking into Jefferson’s gorgeous grey eyes, Brock’s ten years old again. Ten years old and scared of a monster in his bedroom. Scared but needing to be strong forsomeone even more scared than he is. Jefferson’s staring at him, pleading, and the hand on his arm has started to shake. Just like that his resolve is gone.

The kiss Jefferson lands on his lips isn’t perfect. He wasn’t prepared for it, and Jefferson’s aim is a little off, so they don’t quite line up at first. But then Jefferson smiles and slides his arms around Brock’s neck and Brock puts his arms around Jefferson’s waist, and even though their noses bump a little, they manage to straighten out.

And then it is perfect. Slow and gentle and perfect like it’s never been, now that they’re finally kissing when they aren’t drunk on heat and rut and sex. Jefferson arches against him and lets out a happy little sigh, and Brock holds him tighter, smiling against those plush lips that have never been given his proper attention. 

“In that case I guess I’m not going anywhere,” he breathes. Even if it’s still scaring the crap out of him—and it is, twisting hot in his stomach and tingling where they’re touching—there’s no way he’s walking away from this now, no way he could. Because Jefferson’s smiling at him. Really smiling at him. Soft and so fucking beautiful. He’s still not sure what he did to earn that smile, but he’s not going to risk ruining it. 

Carefully, he takes his hands from around Jefferson’s waist just long enough to unfold the jacket and drape it around Jefferson’s shoulders. Jefferson slips his arms into the loose sleeves, and something warm stirs in Brock’s chest as he watches the omega blush so prettily, all wrapped up in his clothing.

“Want to come back to my place?” Brock murmurs as their arms slide back around each other. Fuck, does he want to see Jefferson in his bed again…

Jefferson’s smile takes on a shy edge that has Brock grinning. “I thought you had work?”

“Fuck it, I’ll call in sick,” he shrugs. Jefferson giggles, but then the smile is gone in a flash of hesitation. “What’s wrong?”

“You just want to have sex…” It’s almost an accusation, and, for a few seconds, Brock really can’t do anything but swallow around his guilty conscience. 

“I’d…be lying if I said it hadn’t crossed my mind…” he manages. Jefferson looks down. Brock isn’t having that. “Do you not want to?”

Jefferson’s arms slip a little from around his neck, and it takes physical exertion for him not to immediately pull the omega closer to make up for the loss. “It’s all been about sex…I want more than that.”

Even though Brock knew what he was getting into the moment he accepted that kiss—more than sex, an actual working relationship—his stomach still wrenches with uncertainty. But he’s in it now, no backing down. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want,” he says, resolute.Jefferson nods a little, but he still pulls away more.

“You’re gonna go to work now, right?”

Brock frowns. Does he really think… “Only if you’re turning down the offer to go back to my apartment with me.”

That’s all it takes to make Jefferson’s whole expression open, his eyes softening as they go wide in shock. A good kind of shock, Brock hopes. “You…you still mean it?”

“‘Course I still mean it,” Brock nods, then shrugs. “I mean, you’re right, it has been all sex, we could probably do with something different.” 

He knows he doesn’t deserve the starry-eyed look Jefferson’s giving him, but it makes him smile, lopsided and giddy, nevertheless. “Did you have anything in mind for ‘different’?”

“Not really,” he laughs. Good god is he out of his depth in that regard. “I was gonna ask you that actually. Cuddly personal time isn’t really my forte.” 

“You had me fooled.” Brock’s smile pulls into a grin when Jefferson’s arms wind around his neck again. He’s not used to Jefferson holding him back, but he’s not complaining. “Whatever we end up doing…going back to your place sounds nice. You at least have a proper sitting room so we don’t have to squeeze on the bed.”

Brock snorts. Jefferson _would_ call a couch and a tv a ‘sitting room’. “Not that I’ve ever minded squeezing on the bed,” he chuckles. Jefferson rolls his eyes, but can’t hide a smile. “I hope you don’t mind walking…” he adds quickly. “I, uh, kinda needed to clear my head on the way here.”

“I don’t mind at all.”

“We could stop at that coffee shop on the way, if you want. I don’t know if I’ll have anything you like at my place…”

“You mean that coffee shop you stopped going to three months ago?”

Brock winces. “Yeah, that one…” They both know the reason he stopped going, but at least Jefferson’s smirking at him about it.

“I’d love to,” is all he says in reply. They smile in unison. “I guess I should go grab a couple things…”

“Right…”

But Jefferson needing to go grab a couple things means they have to let go of each other, and that’s something that Brock suddenly finds he really, really doesn’t want to do… Jefferson seems to be in agreement, because he makes no move to pull away. They just hang on each other, quiet, looking perfectly ridiculous for anyone who may decide to come down the hall. 

“You know, you do have to go back inside to get your stuff,” Brock finally smirks.

“I know…” Jefferson sighs dreamily, still not moving. “You know, you taking your arms from around my waist would probably help me do that…” 

“You’re probably right,” Brock shrugs. But the end of one of Jefferson’s curls is caught in his long eyelashes, and Brock’s a little too fascinated by watching it quiver each time he blinks. He lifts his hand to brush the stray bit of hair back, watching Jefferson’s eyes go from half-lidded and teasing to fluttery and shy in seconds, his lips parting into a soft little rosebud.

Those lips do him in. Always have.

This time, the kiss is like touching a live wire, scorching through them both. Jefferson gasps and his hands find their way into Brock’s hair, tangling it in his fingers. Next thing Brock knows, his back is slamming against the opposite wall, and his tongue is slipping into Jefferson’s mouth. Warm, with a taste like he’s been drinking something spiced. Brock smirks around a soft growl, diving his tongue in deeper for more.

Then they’re flipped again and he’s got Jefferson lifted up into his arms, and his mouth has moved on to Jefferson neck, tasting the soft spot just beneath his jaw that’s turned dewy and sweet under his tongue. Jefferson mewls, his heated breath ghosting through Brock’s hair.

“Oh fuck, wait—wait!” Jefferson’s hand presses insistently against Brock’s shoulder, snapping him out of their daze, and he groans softly as he pulls back. They’re both breathing heavier, even after just that. Whatever that was.

“Sorry…” he mutters, sighing and carefully setting Jefferson back down onto his feet. “You just told me no and here I am—”

“Wasn’t just you doing it,” Jefferson interrupts. He smiles softly and rests his forehead against Brock’s. “You make it really hard to say no.”

“I’ll work on that,” Brock chuckles. Jefferson grins, pulling his lower lip between his teeth as he tilts his head and lets their noses brush together. “Come on at least play fair…” Brock groans.

“Where’s the fun in that?” Jefferson purrs, then sighs and leans away, slipping out of Brock’s hold. “I’ll be right back,” he says as he disappears through his door. Brock turns to watch him go, squeezing his eyes shut as he leans against the wall and wills his body back into line.

“Behave,” he mutters to himself. He’s not going to tolerate another fuck-up because of bad self-control.

When Jefferson returns a few minutes later, Brock grins at the picture presented to him. Jefferson managed to find a coat Brock hasn’t seen yet, navy with silvery brocade on the lapels, complimenting a white knitted beanie and scarf, while hands gloved in lavender are gripping the strap of a dark green messenger bag.

“You put me to shame,” he chuckles, and Jefferson frowns, glancing down when he sees Brock’s eyes wandering over him. 

“What?”

“You’re just…very colorful.” 

Jefferson tugs at the buttons on his coat. “I always dress like this…” 

“I didn’t say there was anything wrong with it,” Brock smiles. “Come on, it’s only getting colder out there.”

Jefferson nods slightly before stepping closer, slipping his hand around Brock’s arm. “Just because you don’t know how to wear anything but black—”

“Hey, I said there’s nothing wrong with the way you dress!” Brock grunts, but he can’t stay annoyed, especially not when Jefferson rests his cheek on his shoulder and curls against him.

They’re fairly quiet on the walk, comfortably so, once Brock’s called in to work and managed to fend off Natasha’s pestering questions. He didn’t even bother trying to lie to her, but she was very enthusiastic about promising to cover for him as soon as she found out why it was needed. Jefferson seems to enjoy that: him bickering with his friend.

The only conversation they share is when Jefferson mentions, as they’re exiting the cafe, that the barista looked a little annoyed at seeing Brock with someone on his arm. Brock just laughs it off. It’s probably true, but Brock really only had eyes for Jefferson the whole time, how he fidgeted with trying to tuck his bangs back under his beanie when he was giving his order, how he blushed deeply when Brock insisted on paying for them both. 

“It’s even cleaner than I remember,” Jefferson grins once they’re in his apartment, setting his cup down on the coffee table and shrugging off his coat. He leaves Brock’s jacket on though, and Brock chuckles dryly as he takes the coat from him to hang up, glancing around and recalling how he’d been compulsively and repeatedly scrubbing just about every surface for the past few days.

“I clean when I’ve got a lot on my mind,” he shrugs. Clean, workout, clean, workout. It’s really a wonder he didn’t drop dead from strain.

“Is that why my place is always sparkling by the time you leave?” 

Brock looks up just in time to meet Jefferson’s gaze as the omega’s arms slip around him once again. “Probably has something to do with it,” he smiles, his hands resting on Jefferson’s waist.

“Do I make you nervous or something?” Jefferson’s voice is teasing and Brock can’t help a laugh, even though his throat tightens a little.

“I guess you do,” he sighs. “Which I think you should take as a compliment, because not much makes me nervous.”

“I believe you.” Brock’s apparently become very bad at eye contact all of a sudden, because it’s not until he feels Jefferson playing with his hair that he realizes he needs to look up, finding dreamy eyes looking back at him again. They’re blue in this light…

“What?” 

Brock snaps out of his daze when he hears Jefferson’s question.

“I, uh…what?”

Jefferson giggles at him. “You said something about blue.”

“Oh…” Brock clears his throat, looking down again. “Nothing. Thinking out loud, I guess.”

“Thinking about what?”

Brock bites down on the inside of his cheek. “Your eyes, alright? They’re blue right now, I was just noticing it…” 

He’s looking away again; he realizes it when he feels Jefferson’s lips press against his cheek. He leans into it without even thinking, turning so their lips brush together, careful to keep things chaste this time. Jefferson only lets it last for a moment, maybe he’s concerned about the same thing.

“You really like my eyes, don’t you?” Jefferson murmurs, still close enough that Brock feels the breath from each word against his lips.

“Guess I do,” he replies. “Just like you said you like mine.”

Jefferson smiles. Brock’s positive he’ll never get used to being looked at this way.“I did say that, didn’t I?”

“So you do remember all that?” He has to know for sure, even though it does seem to put a damper on the moment. Jefferson nods, but pulls away.

“Yeah, I remember almost everything,” he murmurs as he heads to sit down on the couch. “It just gets a little hazy during…” He trails off and picks up his tea, rotating the cup slowly in his hands. 

“Right.” Brock shrugs of his own coat, hanging it up next to Jefferson’s before moving to sit with him. He ends up leaving some space between them, but regrets it almost instantly, his arm ending up across the back of the couch in a failed attempted at closeness. 

“Kind of a relief, actually,” Jefferson murmurs, oblivious to Brock’s internal back-and-forth. “You know, that I can remember most of it.” He loosens his scarf so it hangs around his shoulders, and tugs off his beanie, setting it on the coffee table. His hair’s fluffed up from the static and Brock smiles at the halo it makes around his face.

“I can imagine…” he replies, then quickly corrects himself. “I-I mean, I’ve just been kind of concerned about just how one-sided all of this was. Relief for me too, I guess.” Jefferson smiles softly; Brock fidgets with his collar when the skin underneath starts to feel hot.

“Not nearly as one-sided as you might think,” Jefferson shrugs, crawling closer on the couch until he’s tucked against Brock, correcting the earlier mistake. “It’s like…when I’m dealing with it as it comes, instead of just letting it all build up, I’m not frying my brain nearly as much. I’m remembering more now than I ever have.”

Brock puts his arm around Jefferson’s waist, tugging him closer. Perfect. “That’s…” he smiles. “That’s good, I mean—”

“Yeah, it’s a lot better than forgetting,” Jefferson finishes for him, and his tone sobers Brock immediately. “Missing chunks of my life like that…” He shakes his head. “It never got easier.”

Brock nods, words failing him as he watches Jefferson sip his tea, flicking the tag with his thumb where it hangs over the side of the cup. 

“Can I ask what all you do remember?” 

Jefferson tilts his head back to look up from where he’s cuddled against Brock’s chest, his eyes sliding to the side as he thinks for a moment. “I remember what I told you, if that’s what you mean,” he finally murmurs. “About getting pregnant…” Brock nods. Jefferson smiles sadly. “That’s part of what scared you off, isn’t it?”

“No!” Brock knows he says a little too quickly when Jefferson just sighs. “No, hey, I mean it,” he insists. “I wasn’t expecting it, but it didn’t bother me, ok? I’ve heard my share of shitty childhood stories.”

Jefferson slowly raises his eyes again, searching Brock’s face. “Including your own?”

Jefferson is nothing if not observant. Brock shifts uncomfortably, forcing himself not to pull away. “I guess so…” Jefferson waits for a moment, then sighs with a funny little smile.

“I guess I was trying to be subtle,” he murmurs. “Seeing if you would tell me about you if I told you about me.”

“Oh…”Jefferson giggles at what Brock is sure is a completely dumbstruck expression on his part. It makes sense, considering how a normal, reciprocal conversation is supposed to work, but, naturally, that flew right over his head. “Sorry, beautiful, subtle’s never gonna work with me.”

“Yeah, I’m figuring that out,” Jefferson sighs. “So let’s try again.” He sits back and sets down his cup, pulling his knees under himself as he levels Brock with a mock-stern look. Brock finds himself sitting up a little straighter. “Tell me about yourself.”

Brock shrugs. “You already know the basics,” he mutters. Jefferson tips his head thoughtfully as his gaze falls.

“Military, injured in action…” he rattles off, then goes quiet, moving his hand closer to where Brock’s is resting on his leg, softly asking. Brock sighs. Jefferson shouldn’t have to be nervous about that, but here they are with the damage done. He closes the distance and lets their fingers intertwine, and Jefferson’s blush is more rewarding than he would’ve expected. 

But when Jefferson’s free hand wanders to his wrist, nudging the sleeve up to brush over the edge of Brock’s scars, his hand twitches away instinctively. Jefferson quickly relents.

“Sorry…”

“It’s fine,” Brock tries, but the words are hollow and unconvincing. Jefferson squeezes his hand.

“No it’s not, you don’t have to pretend.”

Brock looks away, sighing. Jefferson really is too good for him. “Just a little hang up of mine,” he admits, reluctant. 

“We all have them,” Jefferson replies. It’s quiet then, Jefferson looking down at their joined hands. Brock vaguely wonders if they’re both feeling the same tingling under their skin. “You didn’t finish telling me about yourself, you know…”

Naturally, Jefferson isn’t going to let him just try to change the subject. “It’s not glamorous,” he sighs.

“My story wasn’t either.” Brock looks up and finds Jefferson watching at him. “You mentioned your dad…"

"The bastard who liked to bounce people off the walls when he got in a mood." He winces at his own crassness, glancing up at Jefferson. "Sorry."

"It's ok," he murmurs back. "I figured as much when you said 'mean drunk'." A moment's pause.  "W hat about your mom?”

Brock’s heart hits his stomach as soon as he hears the question. Family is really the last thing he wants to talk about, and it must show because Jefferson’s attempting to backtrack before he’s even given an answer.

“You don’t have to—”

“She died when I was five.”

He’s not sure why the words tumble out, but they do, completely unbeknownst to him. He’s left to flounder in his own shock as Jefferson stares at him, mouth open.

“I’m sorry…” Jefferson whispers after a few seconds of silence. He pulls his hand away from Brock’s, running it through his hair. “I’m sorry, I didn’t—”

“You didn’t know,” Brock finishes. He’s still surprised at his own burst of honesty, but the look on Jefferson’s face pulls him out of his own thoughts. “Hey, it’s ok, I mean it.” He reaches for Jefferson’s wrist, stopping him from tugging nervously on his curls. 

“I should’ve listened when you said it wasn’t glamorous…”

Brock shakes his head. “Come here,” he murmurs as he leads Jefferson into his lap. The omega resists at first, uncertain, but then eagerly curls up against him, tucking his head under Brock’s chin, just like always. Maybe he should be feeling some anxiety over the fact that this sort of closeness it already so normal, but he really just can’t bring himself to be worried. Not when Jefferson looks like he’s expecting to be punished for asking a question. “I’m not upset, alright?”

Jefferson sighs softly, but nods, his curls tickling Brock’s throat. “Maybe we should stop talking about family…”

“Sounds good to me,” Brock chuckles, and Jefferson picks his head up, his face brighter already.

“What about friends? That person you were talking to on the phone—”

“Natasha,” Brock supplies. “I met her through work.”

“What’s she like?”

“She’s a lot like you actually,” Brock chuckles, thinking it over for a moment. “She’s smart, doesn’t let me get away with bullshit.”

“That’s a lot like me?”

“Of course.” Brock narrows his eyes as he looks over Jefferson’s skeptical expression. “What?”

Jefferson shakes his head, looking away. “I’m not all that smart…” he mutters. “I didn’t even finish high school.”

That’s easily the most ridiculous thing Brock’s ever heard. “Well, you were missing a week out of every month.” Probably bouncing all over the state too… “That’s got nothing to do with you being smart.”

“But I never learned the stuff everyone else did…”

“And I’ve seen your bookshelves,” Brock interrupts. “You’re definitely making up for lost time, and then some.”

Dark pink blooms across Jefferson’s cheeks as he glances up at Brock through his eyelashes. “I haven’t read all those books…maybe half—”

“Well if you’d read even a quarter of them I’d still be fucking impressed,” Brock presses. “Seriously, give yourself a little more credit.” 

Jefferson’s staring at him, wide-eyed. He opens his mouth, but when nothing comes out he looks away, biting his lip. 

“Nobody’s ever said that to me before…”

“Well then screw everyone you’ve ever met who had the opportunity and didn’t take it.” Jefferson blinks at him in shock, but he just shrugs. “I mean it. Screw whoever got it into your head that you aren’t smart.”

Jefferson stares at him a moment longer before a giggle suddenly bubbles out of him, lighting up his whole face, even when he claps a hand over his mouth to try to stifle the sound. Brock just grins, and, in a flash of confidence, he pulls Jefferson’s hand away from his mouth and plants a kiss on him, drinking in the happy purr Jefferson lets out. Why on earth did he ever consider not doing this?

He presses forward, his hands sliding to Jefferson’s waist as he eases him down onto his back. Jefferson goes willingly, only pulling away from the soft kisses he’s being peppered with when he feels his back hit the couch, looking up at Brock uncertainly.

“I know, nothing more than kissing,” Brock smiles, holding his hands up innocently. “But holy hell does it feel good to kiss you.”

“It feels good to be kissed by you,” Jefferson whispers, reaching up to take Brock’s hands in his own. His scarf’s hanging off the couch by now, and Brock’s jacket is slipping from one shoulder; a pretty, disheveled picture. Brock puts their hands above Jefferson’s head, pressing down just lightly as he leans in for another kiss.

There’s a deep ache in the core of his body as he has to resist the urge to press too close, to kiss too eagerly. Jefferson’s still purring underneath him, smelling sweet and soft, his lips parting as if to beckon him in deeper…

Forcing himself to pull back, he sighs, shaking his head. “You’re too much for me.”

“Sorry…” Once again, Jefferson’s nervous over what seems to be nothing. Brock smiles for him, moving his arms around Jefferson’s waist and pulling him up into his lap. Jefferson moves so easily with him, delicate hands gripping tight to his shirt.

“Nothing to be sorry for, beautiful.”

That makes Jefferson’s cheeks glow rosy, immediately melting away the nervousness. “I love it when you call me that.”

Brock’s about to ask what Jefferson means when suddenly the petname solidifies in his mind, making him freeze. How long has he been calling him that? “I-I never really thought about it…” he mutters.

“That’s what makes it special, I think,” Jefferson shrugs. “Makes me wish I had something to call you.”

Brock’s mouth pulls into a little smile as he reaches up to tuck back some of Jefferson’s hair. “Well…don’t think about it, and something might come.” Jefferson laughs, tipping his head to nuzzle into Brock’s hand. There’s something about the gesture, how familiar it is, that sends warmth along Brock’s arm, and he pulls Jefferson in closer on instinct, pressing a kiss to his neck. It’s innocent, though, and Jefferson buries his face in Brock’s shoulder, curling up to him once again.

“I’d like to meet your friends,” he murmurs after a few minutes of silence. Brock nods, and then something sparks in his mind.

“I can make that happen, actually.” Jefferson picks his head up, watching him expectantly. “There’s this party happening tomorrow night at the club. Everyone should be there and if you want to…”

He trails off, but Jefferson’s face lights up. “I’d love to go with you.”

“Really?” Jefferson raises an eyebrow at the eager surprise in his voice, which he quickly tries to clear away. “I mean, you don’t have to…it’s a dumb holiday thing, I was gonna skip it—”

“Brock.” His gaze wanders back to Jefferson at the sound of his name. “I want to go with you, you’re not twisting my arm or anything.”

“I know.” Brock nods awkwardly, trying to quiet the uncertainty stirring in his stomach. He hears Jefferson let out a breathless laugh and glances up. “What?”

“So this is what you look like when you’re trying to ask someone on a date?”

A date… That’s what this would be, after all. He shifts under Jefferson’s warm, amused gaze. “I’m not sure what else I would look like…” Jefferson just shakes his head, and before Brock can ask, he has an explanation. 

“You remember that day, when you walked me to work and made your ‘offer’?” 

“Yeah, of course.” How could he forget? Jefferson looks down, a blush creeping onto his cheeks.

“I thought you were going to ask me out, instead of, you know…”

Fuck… Memories of how Jefferson looked, standing outside that little vintage shop, all bright-eyed and eager to hear what he had to say, rattle viciously in his mind. Another obvious clue flying right over his fucking head.

“I’m such an asshole…” 

Jefferson actually laughs at that. “Not an asshole, just a bit oblivious.”

“You’re too generous.”

“Maybe.” Jefferson dismisses the idea pretty quickly, shaking his head. “Anyway, now I know better: you don’t look like a suave gentleman when asking someone out, only when offering to be a fuckbuddy.”

Brock winces so forcefully he has to close his eyes. “Honestly, why tolerate me?” he sighs when Jefferson lays a soft kiss on his forehead, still vibrating with laughter he’s trying to swallow.

“Because you’re really not all bad,” he murmurs, and Brock rolls his eyes. “So I’m your date to the office party?”

“It’s hardly an office,” Brock laughs. “But yeah, you’re my date.” The word doesn’t sound nearly so foreign as he was expecting it to.

“Does that mean we’re dating?”

“If one date counts as dating,” Brock laughs. Jefferson shrugs one shoulder, and Brock takes his cue to be serious. “If that’s what you want, then yeah, we can be dating.”

“It is what I want,” Jefferson whispers. His eyes fall and he squirms a little in Brock’s arms. “Is that what you want?”

“I want to make you happy.” He says it without thinking. He doesn’t have to think about it. Jefferson looks unsure.

“That doesn’t answer my question…”

Brock sighs softly, feeling his old fears about all this begin to crop up, dark inside of him. He takes Jefferson’s face in his hands, and kisses him. A reminder. He wants this. Jefferson sighs into the kiss, lips soft and willing. He wants this.

“I want you,” he murmurs when he pulls back, smiling when Jefferson has to blink to clear the haze from his eyes. 

“You mean it?”

“I mean it,” Brock nods. “That’s why I’m looking forward to our date.”

Starry eyes, glowing cheeks, and a warm smile. He’s done questioning what he did to deserve having this person in his arms.

*****

For the first time in a very long time, Brock actually shares a bed with someone without having sex first. He fell asleep with Jefferson cuddled up next to him, and then woke up the next morning to find Jefferson on his front, splayed out across more than his fair share of bed, a pillow tucked under his chest and the comforter tangled around his legs, leaving his body uncovered. 

It’s not exactly an uncommon occurrence, though when he’s in heat Jefferson sleeps like a tree stump rooted to the mattress, but it’s still pretty adorable, even from where Brock’s laying, half-kicked out of his own bed. 

He slips the rest of the way out of bed as quietly as possible, trying not to wake Jefferson as he heads in to the bathroom. But when he returns, the omega’s sitting up in bed with the pillow still hugged to his chest. He smiles at Brock around a yawn, tipping his head so his curls begin to fall back into place. Though they do look nice all tousled from sleep.

“Morning,” Brock smiles.

“Good morning,” Jefferson answers, before dropping his head and giggling as he hugs his pillow a little closer. “I was worried it was all going to have been a dream…”

“Not a dream. I’m right here, beautiful.” And beautiful is definitely the word for it when Jefferson beams at him, gathering himself up onto his knees to accept a soft kiss when Brock comes to the edge of the bed.

“Good,” he purrs, dropping the pillow in favor of wrapping his arms around Brock’s waist and tugging at him until he relents and lets himself be pulled down into a pile of pillows and blankets and soft omega scent. He finds Jefferson’s lips with his own and silences a fit of giggles with a kiss.

Surprisingly, it’s Jefferson who pulls away first. “I have work…” he sighs, sounding as disappointed as Brock feels at the prospect of having Jefferson leave.

“Call in sick,” he says with a grin, though he doesn’t really mean it.

“I want to,” Jefferson whispers, his fingers wandering through Brock’s hair “I miss enough days as it is…”

“I’m just kidding,” Brock sighs against Jefferson’s lips, sitting back. Jefferson’s a gorgeous picture underneath him, all sleepy grey eyes and ruffled hair. “You go get dressed, I’ll, uh—you don’t drink coffee, do you?”

Jefferson sheepishly shakes his head. Brock can’t really been surprised, now that he realizes he never saw a coffee pot in his the omega’s apartment. “I did bring this though.” Jefferson squirms out from under Brock, leaning over the side of the bed to where he deposited his bag the night before, and pulls out a couple individually packaged teabags. Brock recognizes the colors of the brand without even needing to read the name.

“You brought your own from home?”

“Well you said you didn’t know if you had anything I liked, so I just figured I should take care of myself,” Jefferson shrugs as he sits back up, handing the little packages over. Brock takes them, laughing despite himself.

“This is really fucking cute, you know that?”

Jefferson instantly starts to go red, picking at the comforter. “I just did it so you wouldn’t have to worry about feeding me or anything,” he mumbles, and Brock shakes his head, crawling closer to Jefferson so he can gather him into a kiss.

“Serious, really fucking cute,” he grins as he gets up. “But I am feeding you.”

“No, you really—”

“Jefferson,” Brock admonishes with a raised eyebrow, plucking adamant, grasping hands from his arm. “I’m more stubborn than you are, I promise.” Jefferson pouts at him, still blushing brightly. “Now go shower,” he cocks his head towards the bathroom door. “Make yourself even prettier; whatever it is you do.”

Jefferson actually scoffs at him, which has him smirking all the way to the kitchen. 

A short while later and he has coffee for himself and tea for Jefferson, plus eggs and toast for them both. Or so was his plan. In practice, the eggs end up being just for him, while Jefferson hoards the toast and slathers it with jam Brock had honestly forgotten he had. He did, however, enjoy watching Jefferson putter through his cabinets. It’s so fucking domestic, if you ignore the obvious fact that Jefferson has no idea where anything is.

“Are you sure you don’t need me to walk with you?” he asks once they’re standing in his doorway, now with Jefferson fully dressed and himself still in pajamas. 

“I’m sure,” Jefferson nods. 

“Just don’t want you getting lost…”

“I’m not gonna get lost,” Jefferson rolls his eyes. “This is still technically my neighborhood, I know where I am and how to get where I’m going.”

“Right,” Brock sighs. Jefferson shakes his head.

“And if I do get lost, I can always call you and have you come rescue me.” Now it’s Brock’s turn to roll his eyes.

“Ok, ok, I get it, go…” he mumbles, and Jefferson’s laugh rings through the apartment. “I’ll see you tonight. Pick you up at five?”

“Ok,” Jefferson smiles. “It’s, uh, kind of a nice place, right? Like, I should look nice?”

“You always look nice,” Brock smirks. Jefferson purses his lips. “I don’t know, it’s a nightclub, I guess that’s nice.” He’s about to ask if Jefferson recalls what it was like the last time he was there, but rapidly bites his tongue when he remembers that Jefferson has no memory of that night.

Jefferson just nods, smiling softly. “Alright, I’ll see you at five,” he murmurs, leaning close to peck Brock’s cheek. But Brock isn’t about to let him get away with just that, and pulls him back for a real kiss immediately, humming pleasantly when Jefferson smiles against his lips.

“See you later, beautiful,” he purrs, and for a moment he isn’t sure Jefferson’s going to actually make it out the door, considering how he’s leaning heavily against Brock. But he gathers himself after a moment, nodding weakly as he grins and turns to go. Brock waits until he’s in the elevator before closing his door. 

He glances to the counter, where one of the teabags Jefferson brought with him is left unused. With a smile, he carefully tucks it next to where he keeps his coffee.

It certainly won’t be going to waste.

******

_[Wait so you’re actually coming tonight?]_

Natasha sounds like she’s in shock, even via text message, when Brock let’s it slip that he’s actually going to a holiday event.

_[You never come to these things]_

_[nevers a long time…]_

_[Not for a hard-headed prick like you]_

Brock rolls his eyes. She’s right of course. _[ive got a date coming with me, alright??]_

The next message takes a little too long to come in and Brock smirks. 

_[did you die from shock?]_

_[Nearly. I had to show Maria to make sure I didn’t suddenly forget how to read]_

Brock grimaces, but swallows his pride. _[is she coming with you?]_

_[Yes now don’t change the subject. Your date better be Jefferson or so help me…]_

Brock rolls his eyes. _[of course its him]_

Natasha’s reply takes too long again. He’d assume she’s squealing with her girlfriend in excitement, that is, if Nat were the sort of person who’s prone to squealing.

_[So you guys are a thing now, are you?]_

_[i guess]_ Brock sighs, staring at the words for a moment before pressing send and setting to work on an addendum. _[were gonna try to make it work]_

_[*We’re. I know you’re not a huge fan of punctuation, but if it’s making the difference between two very different words at least humor me]_

_[you knew wtf i meant fuck off]_

_[ <3 ]_

He snorts at Natasha’s glib reply before tucking his phone into his pocket. He’s just pulled up outside of Jefferson’s apartment, and he has a few minutes to spare. Three exactly, he notices as he glances at the little neon clock on his dashboard. He takes a deep breath, and it comes out rougher than it probably should.

He’s still not sure this counts as a real date, since it’s more a social event than a private one, but meeting friends—the closest thing Brock has to family now—is a big deal, right? He certainly hopes it counts as a big deal, since it feels big enough to him to put knots in his stomach. 

It’s real now. They’re actually doing this. 

He shakes himself, turning off the ignition and shoving open his door. He’s in front of Jefferson’s apartment before he knows it.

It’s the second time in as many days that’s he’s been left breathless at Jefferson’s doorstep, but this time is so, so much better.

“Hi,” is all he manages to get out as he admires the vision in front of him. It’s more put together than he’s ever seen the omega look, and though he loves the disheveled appearance he’s used to, he’s really, really liking this. Jefferson’s wild curls have been tamed into orderly waves hugging the curves of his face, and he’s got blue-black kohl smudged around his eyelashes, making his eyes look somehow even bigger and brighter than they do naturally. His full lips are a shimmering with a soft peach color, and when Jefferson steps closer, Brock can smell lavender clinging to the omega’s skin, mixing with his natural scent for a combination that makes Brock just want to take a bite out of him.

“Hi,” Jefferson replies, pulling Brock out of his daze. He steps closer again and takes Brock’s hand gently in his own. “Ready to go?”

“Yeah I…” Brock has to pause and shake his head. “I’m sorry, you just look…” There’s no way he’s thinking up a word that will do him justice. “I mean, I had no idea this was your thing…”

He’s smiling ear to ear, but evidently he’s still managed to say the wrong thing because Jefferson’s hand flutters nervously around his face. “O-only sometimes,” he shrugs. “I don’t alway feel like it but for special occasions and stuff…” He fidgets with tucking a lock of hair behind his ear as he makes to pull away from Brock. “I-I can wash it off if you don’t like it?”

“Don’t like it?” Brock repeats, shell-shocked. “How the hell could I not like it, you look fucking gorgeous.” Instantly, the air lifts as Jefferson breaks into a smile.

“You think so?”

“It’s not a matter of me thinking so, you just do,” Brock smirks. He tucks his arms around the omega’s waist, kissing his forehead so he doesn’t mess up the gloss on his lips. Jefferson’s skin his heated with a blush as he ducks his head.

“I was worried, since you said you only like guys,” he murmurs. “I thought this might be, you know…too girly.”

Brock shakes his head. “Nah, I don’t care about that stuff. I like guys, but not just one type of guy.” He hesitates as a thought occurs to him for the first time. “You actually do think of yourself as a guy, right?” Plenty of male omegas, and female alphas, don’t think of themselves as their assigned gender, but as a mix of man and woman. They’re already a mix of male and female, so it makes sense.

Jefferson sighs, looking lost. “I guess, I mean…” he trails off, and his gaze falls to the floor. 

“It’s fine if you don’t,” Brock quickly corrects. “I don’t care, I like you anyway, I’m just…I don’t know…making sure I’m not putting words in your mouth.”

Eventually, Jefferson’s eyes wander back to his, softened with emotion. “I don’t know, honestly,” he shrugs. “I’ve always been called a man, a male…unless someone was being especially ugly.” He shakes his head and Brock’s arms tighten around him instinctively, protectively. “I never really thought about it.”

Brock nods, then shrugs. “Shouldn’t be a big deal anyway,” he smiles. Jefferson nods in agreement, still seeming a little far away. “Come on, we should get going.”

“Can I at least have a proper kiss?”

Brock laughs softly. “I wouldn’t want to mess up your look.” Jefferson just smiles.

“I can always put more on,” he murmurs. The tip of his tongue darts out over his lips as he tips his head thoughtfully. “Besides, I can’t decide whether it tastes like peaches or apricots and I need a second opinion.”

Brock groans under his breath. “You’re trying to kill me, aren’t you?”

“And why would I do that?”

Before he can respond, Brock finds himself silenced by Jefferson’s lips, soft and slick, against his own. He purrs as he kisses back, his tongue slipping out just enough to get a little taste.

“Apricot, I think,” he says when he pulls back. Jefferson giggles softly, his thumb gently wiping the smudged gloss from Brock’s mouth.

“You think so?” he asks with a raised eyebrow, perfectly innocent. Brock rolls his eyes and Jefferson giggles again as he lets himself be tugged down the hall at Brock’s side.

******

The party’s already in full swing by the time they get there, music blaring from the speakers as people mingle in the low light. At least it’s not a truly respectable establishment, so there aren’t any chintzy decorations hung to make sure nobody forgets it’s December. The mass of winter-wear by the door says enough in that regard. 

Brock hangs up their coats, but Jefferson just shakes his head lightly when Brock holds out his hand for the silky scarf he has around his neck. Brock just nods, readjusting his jacket on his shoulders. Not like he doesn’t understand.

Even in the all the commotion, Natasha still somehow spots them almost instantly and is in front of them with a statuesque brunette in tow just minutes after they’ve made it through the door. 

“I thought you were going to get cold feet about coming,” Natasha grins. “You remember Maria?”

“I do now,” Brock grins. Maria, the brunette standing just behind Natasha, extends her arm for a handshake, her eyes glinting as she smiles a soft, unreadable smile. No wonder she and Natasha hit it off so quickly, Brock thinks as he takes her hand in his own, then lets it fall after a few seconds. There’s almost no scent on Maria’s skin, just like Natasha, so she must be a beta, but he would’ve guessed alpha from the strong handshake and erect posture, not to mention the way her arm slips easily around Natasha’s waist once she pulls her hand back.

“Nice to meet you,” she nods back before her eyes slide over to Jefferson. “And who is this?”

“Oh, my bad.” Brock clears his throat as he ushers Jefferson out from where the omega has himself tucked safely behind Brock. “This is Jefferson. Jefferson, this is Natasha and her girlfriend, Maria.”

“Hi,” Jefferson murmurs, barely audible over the music and buzz of conversation. Brock never fails to be amazed at how little Jefferson can make himself look, considering how tall he actually is. Even in heels, Natasha’s still about three inches shorter than him, but somehow seems to take up more space.

“It’s great to finally meet you,” Nat smiles, uncharacteristically warm, inviting a smile from Jefferson in return. She flashes a smirk, taking Maria’s hand from around her waist. “Come on, let’s get you boys some drinks,” she says as she turns and heads through the crowd.

Brock isn’t about to argue with that offer, and Jefferson’s very nearly glued to his side as they move, leaning close so he doesn’t have to shout to be heard.

“So this is where you work?”

“Yeah, usually I’m security,” Brock smiles. “You’ve actually been here before. This is where we…or, I guess, where I met you.” Jefferson didn’t really meet him until a week later. Something like regret passes over Jefferson’s face, and Brock wishes he hadn’t said anything.

“Wish I could remember it…”

“Wasn’t all that special,” Brock shrugs, trying to correct his mistake. “You came up to me and asked me to dance, I accepted. And soon enough we were back at my apartment.”

“We danced together?” It’s hard to tell under the neon lights, but Brock’s pretty sure Jefferson’s blushing.

“For a little while, yeah,” he nods.

Jefferson giggles softly, shaking his head. “I don’t know how to dance to music like this…”

“Well you knew how that night.” Brock leans to kiss Jefferson’s cheek. “Not much too it anyway, I never dance and I managed to figure it out pretty quickly.”

“You two are disgustingly cute, you know that?” Natasha calls as she hopes over the bar. Brock makes a face at her as he sits down, nudging Jefferson onto the barstool opposite him. The omega seems to have a hard time getting comfortable, and Brock misses the heat against his side, but their knees are still brushing together as they face each other.He catches Natasha observing them both with a grin. “The usual?”

“Yeah,” Brock nods, accepting the glass she pours for him.

“And for you?”

Jefferson looks startled when he’s asked a question, and falters for a moment before shrugging one shoulder. “Water,” he finally says, wringing his hands in his lap. “J-just water’s fine…”

“You sure?” Brock asks. “You can get whatever you want.”

“No, really it’s fine,” Jefferson nods, dropping his head. “I…I don’t drink so…”

“Oh…” Brock can’t quite figure out what to say to that at first. He’s never actually met an adult who doesn’t drink… All of a sudden it dawns on him that he’s never once asked Jefferson’s age. “Well you’re legal, right? It’s just a personal preference…?” Jefferson’s got a bit of a baby-face, sure, but please don’t say he just brought an underage kid into a bar…

“No—I mean, yeah, I’m legal, of course!” Jefferson quickly insists, laughing breathlessly, though Brock sudden feels like he can breathe again. “I turned twenty-two in October, it’s just a personal thing.”

It’s meant to be reassuring, Brock knows that, but it really only serves to send his anxiety through the roof as several things register in his mind:

First off, Jefferson doesn’t drink, which is adorable, and so unlike himself that he doesn’t know whether to cry or laugh.

Secondly, Jefferson’s twenty-two. Which is…holy fuck… _twenty-two_ …

Lastly, he either spent his twenty-second birthday alone, or spent it in heat with Brock there and having no idea. And neither of those options is a good one.

“Brock?” Jefferson’s voice, and hand on his knee, snaps him back to reality. “Did I break you?”

Brock shakes his head, but when he can’t find the words, Natasha supplies them.

“Don’t worry, he’s just coming to terms with being a cradle-robber.”

Brock gives a dry laugh, and when Jefferson looks back at him he can only tell the truth. “I turn _thirty_ in a couple months.”

Jefferson’s eyes go wide at his admission, and Brock can’t really blame him, since an eight year age difference is nothing to scoff at. But then he’s giggling, covering his mouth with his hand, but unmistakably happy even so. Brock can’t help but smile.

“Ok then,” Jefferson manages through his fingers, letting loose a bright sigh.

“So you’re alright with that?”

Jefferson nods, reaching out to grasp Brock’s hand. “If you are, yeah,” he murmurs, and Brock give his hand a gentle squeeze in return.

“Am I interrupting?”

Brock looks up, cocking a smirk when his eyes land on Jack. “I was wondering if your lazy ass was going to show up,” he chuckles. Jack just shrugs.

“Nat told me I should come, so I did,” he mutters, glancing over to Natasha, who’s perched on the bar, next to where Maria’s seated on a stool. The beta tilts her head towards Jefferson.

“I thought you would want to meet Brock’s date.”

Jack’s not usually the kind of guy to be overly-emotional, but even for him, his blank face as he looks Jefferson up and down is a pretty severe non-reaction. Jefferson visibly shrinks back from the hard gaze, and Brock clears his throat, drawing Jack’s attention to him.

“Your date?” the taller man asks in a tight voice.

“Yeah, my date,” Brock replies, narrowing his eyes. He doesn’t know what Jack’s problem is, but he’s not putting up with the stoic bullshit. “This is Jefferson, I wanted him to have the chance to meet you guys.”

Jack raises an eyebrow, still looking unamused as he glances at Jefferson again. He’s a big guy and he knows it. Brock can see him flexing his shoulders, seeming to enjoy the fact that he can tower over the omega, who’s looking more and more like he just wants to shrink until he disappears. Brock shoves up onto his feet, planting himself firmly in front of Jefferson. 

“Is there a fucking problem?” he growls. He may not be as tall as Jack, but he’s just as broad, and it’s been a very long time since he was intimidated by the other alpha. It’s a shock to find that’s all Jack is to him right now, another alpha: reeking of a sharp, burning, challenging scent that mixes ugly with the tang of Jefferson’s fear. He reaches to take hold of Jefferson’s hand again, stroking the back gently as he glares at Jack, waiting for an answer.

Jack finally relents, taking a step back so Brock can finally let out a proper breath. “No problem at all,” he hisses. Before Brock can say anything, he turns and shoves through the crowd, which readily parts for him. Everyone within earshot is staring now, but Brock doesn’t care. The only thing on his mind is turning back to Jefferson, shielding him from everyone else.

“Jesus…are you ok?” he asks softly when he sees Jefferson shaking. The omega raises his head slightly, and Brock sighs when he sees him biting down hard on his lip.

“I-I guess he doesn’t like me…” he finally chokes out.

“He’s a dick,” Brock shakes his head and cups Jefferson’s face gently. “And he had no right to try to scare you like that.”

Jefferson draws in a shaky breath, trying and failing to smile. “I’m afraid he did a little more than try,” he whispers, tears threatening to spill over the corners of his eyes.

“Hey, it’s alright,” he murmurs, panicking as he attempts to soothe Jefferson’s gasping breaths. Something deep inside him, some instinct to protect, flares savagely. God, he could _kill_ Jack for this, personal history be damned. He has no idea what Jefferson’s been through… “You’re ok, he’s never going to get near you again.”

“D-don’t say that!” Jefferson squeaks. “He’s your friend, don’t say that—”

“Yeah, he’s my friend, which is exactly why I’m about to go give him a real piece of my mind,” Brock smiles. “I’m not letting him get away with that.” But Jefferson’s having none of it, shaking his head violently.

“Don’t get in a fight,” he pleads, his hands a vise-grip around Brock’s. “Don’t, please, I don’t want you in a fight with your friend…”

“I’m not gonna get violent,” Brock says softly but firmly, bringing Jefferson’s hands up to kiss his fingers lightly. He wants to though, despite his words. His hands are itching to land a few solid punches on Jack’s face. “I’m just gonna make sure he knows that he can’t do that to you.”

Jefferson whines softly, shaking his head again. “You don’t need to do that for me…”

“Yeah, I think I do actually,” Brock sighs before silencing Jefferson with a kiss. When Jefferson presses up towards him, he has to swallow a growl—they are still in public after all—but for a split second the kiss becomes deeper, more aggressive, and it surprises Jefferson enough to make him whimper in Brock’s hold. 

“I’ll be back soon,” Brock murmurs as he straightens up. A glance over one shoulder lets him see Jack duck out the side entrance, and a glance past the other shoulder locates Natasha, who’s already moving closer.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” she says softly, placing her hands on Jefferson’s shoulders.The omega starts a bit at the sudden contact, but after a nod from Brock, moves with Natasha towards the restrooms. Maria follows behind, sending Brock a reassuring nod. They’ll take care of him.

In seconds, Brock’s tearing across the room towards the side door, people very nearly leaping out of his way as he does. His skin’s too heated with anger for him to even bother grabbing his coat, he just slams open the door, out into the cold night.

Jack scowls at him from where he’s leaning against the alley wall, taking a long drink from the beer bottle in his hand. “What the hell do you want?”

“I want to know who the fuck you think you are,” Brock growls as he slams the door behind him. “And what the fuck you were trying to do.”

Jack scoffs and rolls his eyes. “Not a damn thing…”

“Don’t try to fuck with me, I saw that display in there.” Brock slaps the bottle out of Jack’s hand, earning a snarl from the other alpha as it shatters across the pavement. “Do you get off on trying to traumatize omegas or some shit?” he hisses. He’s seen Jack do this stuff before, every time an omega gets near him. “Does it make you feel all big and powerful?”

For a moment, Brock swears Jack’s going to punch him, but then the livid burn in his eyes fades and he smirks. “I don’t need anything to make me big and powerful next to a scrap like that.”

Brock almost decks him, just on principle. But he had promised not to… “Well congrats, you managed to terrorize somebody who’s already been to hell and back, are you proud of yourself?”

“What, now you want to whine to me about how much shit he’s been through?” Jack snorts. “Just a week ago you were whining to me about how you couldn’t handle him.”

“Is that what all this is about?” Brock laughs.“You’re pissed that I decided to give him a chance?” Jack doesn’t see the humor, apparently.

“All I know is that, just a few days ago, you damn near drank yourself into a coma over him, and now he’s your date. Now you’re kissing him and defending him…” Jack trails off and grimaces, like the thought is so disgusting he wants to scrub it from his mind. “This isn’t the you that I know, all soft over an omega.”

Brock narrows his eyes. “What the fuck is your issue with omegas?”

“No issue,” Jack shrugs. That’s bullshit if Brock’s ever heard it. “I was just under the impression that you liked men.”

“I do like men.” Brock’s voice is low and dangerous, daring Jack to make the misstep he’s teetering on the edge towards. “And I like that man in there quite a lot, so what’s the fucking problem?”

Jack smirks, raising an eyebrow like he’s enjoying seeing Brock angry. “What you’ve got in there looks a hell of a lot more like a bitch than a man to me.”

Brock sees red. Honest to god sees red. The next thing he knows his fist is colliding with Jack’s jaw, hard enough that white hot pain shoots through his knuckles as Jack stumbles away, gingerly covering a split lip.

“Enough!” Natasha voice stops Brock in his tracks when he realizes he’s advancing to land another hit. “Both of you, enough,” she hisses, sending Jack a warning glance before ushering Brock back inside. “I thought you told Jefferson you weren’t going to be violent?”

“Wasn’t like that,” Brock mutters. “Just hit him once to make sure he understands he’s an asshole.” Natasha rolls her eyes, sighing when she sees the skin’s split on Brock’s knuckles.

“He’s going to freak out,” she murmurs. “He got hysterical, worrying about you getting hurt. Maria’s still got him in the bathroom, trying to calm him down, but he insisted someone check on you.”

“He deserves better…” Brock shakes his head and grabs a napkin once they reach the bar, pressing it to the torn skin and watching the bright white tinge red, beginning to sap the rage out of him.

“Well you’ll never convince him of that,” Natasha sighs and she hops up onto the bar. “He’s still reeling over the fact that you actually chose him over your friend, thinks he doesn’t deserve you.”

Brock lets out a dry, humorless laugh. “I just chose the person who needed protecting over the one who was being a bully.” He still can’t believe what Jack said. Jack, his oldest friend. How does anybody—

“And since when do you have a single bone for justice in your entire body?” Natasha smirks. Brock smiles a little in return.

“Since him, I guess.”

Natasha nods, letting her chin rest on her shoulder for a moment. “He reminds you of…of _him_ , doesn’t he?”

Brock lets out a long, slow breath, drumming his hand on the bar. It’s not something he’s ever considered until now but… “Yeah, I guess he does. Not in a weird way—”

“Of course.”

“But…yeah.”

It’s quiet for a moment, Natasha regarding him silently as he mulls over the idea. Jefferson reminds him of… It makes perfect sense: a sweet, innocent, abused omega who deserves better…

“You guys are officially dating now, does he know?”

Brock shakes his head, leaning heavy on the bar as he glances up at Natasha. “Does she?”

“Yes, actually.” Brock’s eyebrows shoot and Natasha smiles. Suddenly there’s a softness about her, a softness he’s learning to associate with Maria. “After our conversation, I figured she had a right to know.” She looks down, sighing. “Didn’t give all the details, of course, but she knows.”

“How’d she take it?”

“Pretty well, considering,” Natasha nods. “You know what we did the next day?”

“What?”

“She took me to meet her mom.”

They share a glance and then a laugh, the irony of it is magnificent. Brock nods agreeably, grateful for the change of topic. “That’s definitely taking it well,” he grins, and Natasha rolls her eyes, her hand coming up the fiddle with the locket around her neck. “Maria gave that to you, huh?”

“Yeah,” Natasha smiles, and her gaze goes unfocused as she loses herself in thought for a moment. Brock can’t help but smirk.

“You have got it so fucking bad…”

“I’m not the only one,” Natasha replies. She smirks back for a moment, then sighs. “You know Jefferson’s crazy about you, right?”

“I know,” Brock murmurs. He doesn’t understand it, but he does know. His train of thought is interrupted, however, when all of a sudden the omega in question barrels into his side, trying simultaneously to cling to him and check him for injuries, pulling desperately at his clothes.

“Hey…hey, I’m ok,” he smiles, holding Jefferson by the shoulders to stave off the nervous inspecting. The makeup around Jefferson’s eyes is a little smudged, but clearly whoever cleaned him up was very careful about not wiping it everywhere. “I’m ok, beautiful, everything’s alright” he repeats, and Jefferson finally quiets when he presses a gentle kiss to his forehead. Fuck whoever’s watching.

“I was so worried…” Jefferson murmurs.

“I know,” Brock sighs, wrapping his arms around the omega when he burrows closer. “But everything’s fine, just like I—” He winces when Jefferson takes hold of his bruised hand, and instantly the omega’s alarmed again as he looks over the cuts.

“You said you wouldn’t fight…”

“For the love of—I didn’t fight!” Brock insists. “He just said some shit that I wasn’t going to take lying down. Gave him one good one, than Nat pulled me back inside.”

Jefferson sends a grateful look over his shoulder at Natasha, who smiles back from where she’s got her arms looped around Maria’s shoulders. Brock’s pretty damn grateful too, since he’d been about to knock Jack’s skull in.

“He’s ok, right?”

Brock raises an eyebrow. “You’re actually concerned about him.”

“He’s your friend…”

Brock sighs softly, cupping Jefferson’s face in his hand. How does a person this good actually exist in real life? “Yeah, he’s fine, I promise. He’s taken plenty of hits from me before, and me from him.” It’s never really been like this though. Throwing a punch or two was stress-relief, they’ve never parted on bad terms. Jefferson nods, but the worry isn’t gone from his eyes.

“Do you want to go home?” The tentative question makes Brock sigh as he tucks some of Jefferson’s hair behind his ear.

“Yeah,” Home, quiet, sounds really fucking great right about now. “Is my place is ok, or do you want me to bring you back to your apartment?”

Jefferson blushes softly, but a little smile curls into his cheeks, flashing his dimples. “I assumed we’d both be at your place…” His place. His place is home for them both. It could’ve easily just been a mistake, something Jefferson didn’t even realize he did, but that smile is saying otherwise. Brock’s smile widens.

“Home sounds nice,” he nods. “Oh, and one more thing.” Jefferson barely has a moment to look at him expectantly before Brock’s kissing him, soft and deep and sweet as he pulls him in closer and feels Jefferson’s arms slide around his neck. Those arms almost keep him from leaning back. “Definitely apricot,” he murmurs. Jefferson blinks at him for a moment, and then his fingers lift to brush gently against his own lips and he breaks out into a fit of giggles, his smile glowing even in the dim light. 

It hits him hard, aching in his core, but there’s no denying it: he doesn’t care if he has to make a fool of himself, or throw a few punches; he’s pretty sure he’d do anything to make sure that smile never goes away.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter's shorter than some of the other's have been. School's been hitting me hard, so I'm still working out where writing fits into my schedule. I should stay on track for getting chapters up fairly regularly
> 
> Enjoy and leave a review if you like!

It’s a learning curve, those first few weeks.

Brock learns that the woman Jefferson works with, Belle, adores him without ever having met him, because he apparently makes the omega smile like she’s never seen before.

Belle’s mate—Jefferson’s actual boss—likes him less, since he’s the topic of too much time-wasting gossip. But, according to Jefferson, he doesn’t like anybody much. 

They learn that they can’t really stay away from each other, now that there’s no reason for them to be apart. If they aren’t together, Jefferson’s texting Brock asking when they can be again, and Brock’s more than willing to oblige every request.

They can usually manage to meet either when Jefferson has a lunch break, or in the early evening if Brock’s working a later shift. But with Jefferson working most days and him working most nights, those few stolen half-hours during the week really aren’t quite enough. It’s not long before Jefferson asks if he can stay in Brock’s apartment to wait for him to come home one night, if only so they can spend the morning together. 

Brock wasn’t expecting ‘the morning’ to mean three am when he comes home to find Jefferson curled up on the couch, reading his favorite book of poems. 

The title is _Ariel_ , he’s learned. Belle gave him the first edition copy he’s very nearly worn through with repeated readings, because she kept catching him with it when he was supposed to be working.

“You didn’t have to wait up for me,” he murmurs as he sits down, smiling when Jefferson eagerly cuddles close to his side.

“Couldn’t sleep,” he murmurs back. “Must’ve missed you.”

The sentiment is sweet, but it doesn’t take long to figure out that Jefferson’s insomnia is far from a product of him not being around. Jefferson begins to stay over more and more, and is almost always awake when Brock gets home. Even when he isn’t working, Brock’s woken up more than once by Jefferson moving around the apartment in the wee hours of the morning. He always apologizes, tries to say that he was just getting water or going to the bathroom, but once Brock picks up on the pattern, he won’t be fooled. Half-asleep and soft with grogginess, he tugs Jefferson back into the bed every time, wrapping his arms around the omega and petting his hair until they can finally fall asleep.

Jefferson, for his part, learns that Brock’s sleep is also rarely peaceful, though Brock isn’t aware that his secret’s out until he’s woken up one night by Jefferson shaking him.

Still lost in the fog of the familiar nightmare, Brock roughly and unwittingly shoves Jefferson away from him, only freezing when the omega’s soft gasp of shock shoots through his mind like a lightning bolt. He’s thrown into consciousness violently, breathing heavy with a cold film of sweat on his skin, as he stares down at the omega pinned beneath him.

To his credit, there’s no fear in Jefferson’s expression, only concern as he searches Brock’s face.

“It’s ok,” he murmurs, his cool grey eyes soothing. Brock quickly jerks his hands away when Jefferson pushes against the shaking arms pinning him down, and shudders when a hand comes up to cup his face. The nightmare is still fresh, not that he needs a reminder to know which images make up the chaotic mass of noise and color burning behind his eyes when he closes them.“It’s ok, you were just dreaming.” 

If only it had been just a dream… 

Just when Brock thinks he’s found his voice, he’s silenced again by nausea rolling through him. Jefferson’s hand has wrapped around his body to move across his back, right over the worst of his scaring. Right where the touch is nothing but a dull tingling that barely reaches through the layers of warped skin.

The hand is too warm, burning him… 

Brock yanks away, raking a hand through his hair as he nearly falls out of bed in his attempt to get away. Jefferson’s soft, nervous voice presses against his skull, but he can’t make out the words. The violent, scalding roar of unwanted memories pushes back from the inside, blocking out everything else. 

He hears his name, but doesn’t know who’s calling him. Feels hands, doesn’t know where they’re pulling him.

Deafening noise, blinding light, harrowing pain—what’s real, what’s a memory—

A cry that’s not his own jolts him back to reality. Jolts him almost as hard, he realizes with horror, as his own elbow has slammed into Jefferson’s chest. The impact is enough to send the omega lurching back towards the bed, face blank with shock as he misses the top of the mattress and crashes to the floor.

Silent.

So silent as Brock stares at Jefferson’s tiny, crumpled form. It’s only when he sees Jefferson’s chest rise for breath that he remembers he, too, can breathe.

“I—” Speech fails him. What can he say? His skin is cold where just moments before he had been burning. It’s a wholly different, but still wholly awful, flashback that he plunges through now. One of a different omega—just as kind and gentle—crumpled and in pain, cowering from the person who hurt him.

Jefferson looks up at him, and Brock has to look away. He thinks he manages an apology, though maybe it gets caught in his throat, dry with guilt.

He can’t— 

Hand caught in his hair, he rushes out of the room, only stopping when he collides with the couch, nearly pitching over it.

He swore he’d never—but he just…

His hand tightens, pain pricking where a few dark strands yank from his scalp. 

Why did Jefferson have to be near him for that?

He drops down onto the couch, growling under his breath in frustration. Frustration with himself. Not Jefferson, never Jefferson for just happening to be in the line of fire.

He should’ve known he’d end up putting somebody in danger, but why did it have to be him…?

The sound of movement in the doorway makes Brock flinch as he looks up to see Jefferson watching. The omega steadily raises his hands in a sign of goodwill, dragging a pained laugh out of Brock that borders on a sob.

“You alright?” Jefferson asks softly.

“Fucking peachy…” Even Brock’s own voice is barely recognizable to him, rough with sleep and stress. “I should probably be asking you that.” The fact that Jefferson still has his hands raised isn’t helping Brock’s guilty conscience. 

“I’m ok,” Jefferson replies. Even though they both smile, Brock’s having a hard time believing it. “Are you gonna spend the night on the couch or come back to bed?”

“Might be better for you if I was out here,” Brock mutters. Not like he can say for sure when another nightmare’s going to strike, or what he might do as a result.

“Do the really bad ones usually happen more than once?” 

Brock frowns as he glances up, but Jefferson just shrugs, tucking his arms around him as he leans against the doorframe. 

“I know this one was worse than normal…”

Brock grimaces at the idea that Jefferson’s seen enough to know the bad from the ugly “How?” 

“You’ve never whimpered like that before.” The answer sits uncomfortably in his stomach, a niggling shame that makes him clench his jaw. It’s enough to make Jefferson’s voice soften into uncertainty. “I thought you were hurting or something, then I saw you were asleep.”

“I guess shit like this doesn’t stay a secret when you’re sharing a bed with an insomniac,” Brock drawls, shaking his head before it drops into his hands. He’ll choke on his own sarcasm one day. He hears a soft sigh, followed by little footfalls padding across the room towards him. But instead of feeling the couch dip, there’s a soft shuffling at his feet. It forces him to realize his eyes have squeezed shut, and when he opens them, he sees Jefferson kneeling, looking up at him with shimmery lavender eyes that glint with humor at his reaction. 

Dumbfounded, that’s really the only word for it, especially once Jefferson folds his soft hands across Brock’s thigh, settling in enough to touch his lips to Brock’s knee in the barest brush of a kiss.

It should be desire making his breath pick up. The action’s so perfectly, beautifully submissive; Jefferson’s like something out of a painting.

It should be desire…

“Don’t kneel like that,” he groans. His hands leave his hair to find Jefferson’s shoulders, pulling him up and guiding the omega into his lap. Jefferson moves for him so willingly, but it doesn’t escape his notice that the omega’s hands stay resolutely on his unscarred skin. 

“I thought alphas loved it when omegas knelt for them?” he murmurs into Brock’s hair, with a lightness in his voice that Brock can’t match. He should love it… His eyes slip shut again as he buries his face into Jefferson’s neck, breathing deep the familiar sweetness there. It calms him, and the words just tumble out:

“My father would make my mom kneel like that.”

The soft hitch of Jefferson’s breath tugs painfully in his stomach and, anticipating the flood to come, he quickly tilts his head up to quiet him with a kiss.

“Don’t apologize,” he murmurs, smiling softly when Jefferson goes pink and ducks his face away. “You didn’t know.”

“I won’t do it again,” Jefferson quickly promises. Brock just nods in reply.

“I should be apologizing to you,” he mutters. He moves to pull the neck of Jefferson’s shirt down, trying to inspect him for any marks, but he’s brushed away.

“I’m fine.” Red flag.

“If you were fine you wouldn’t mind me looking.”

Worry flashes across Jefferson’s face, just barely overshadowed by the annoyed pout his lips push into. Brock desperately wishes he had it in him to appreciate how cute that is, but he can’t, not when he tugs Jefferson’s collar down just a few inches and finds a red-purple bruise already blossoming on the omega’s pale skin.

“Fuck…” 

“You didn’t mean to,” Jefferson insists.

“I still did it.” Brock’s hands are pushing up Jefferson’s shirt now, checking his sides, his hips, his back for any more bruises that might have resulted from his fall. He finds none, but that doesn’t mean they couldn’t appear later—

“Brock, stop.” Jefferson grasps his wrists, bringing them up to cup his hands between them. “I’m ok,” he sighs, kissing the words into Brock’s rough knuckles. “You didn’t mean to, and you’re forgiven, alright?”

He doesn’t want to admit it, but the little kisses Jefferson’s peppering across his hands are calming him, sending a pleasant warmth across his skin that settles into his chest. He laughs dryly, his head falling to rest on their joined hands.

“Too good for me…”

“Shut up.” Brock laughs for real this time as Jefferson’s hands come to cup his face, pulling him up just enough to place a kiss on the alpha’s forehead. Brock’s arms wrap around him in turn, holding him tightly as Jefferson’s head rests on his shoulder. He seems so small like this, curled up in Brock’s arms. It triggers something protective in Brock, even as he wishes he wasn’t exactly what Jefferson needs protecting from.

“Your father’s not what you’re having nightmares about, right?”

Brock shakes his head as he nuzzles into Jefferson’s neck. “No,” he mutters against the soft skin, then reconsiders. “Or…not usually…not this time at least.” 

Jefferson’s running his fingers through Brock’s hair now, the way Brock does when he’s trying to get Jefferson to fall asleep. “Do you want to tell me what it was about?”

Brock sighs heavily. “Do I want to…” he muses.

“You don’t have to.”

“I should though, right?” Brock flops against the back of the couch as he looks at Jefferson on his lap. His hair’s an untamed mess, falling into the eyes that have Brock pinned with the weight of their concern. “That’s what’s normal, telling people about your nightmares.”

“I’m no authority on what’s normal,” Jefferson shrugs, and Brock has to roll his eyes as he laughs. Neither of them is. “But I’d like to know what’s upsetting your nights.”

Brock nods again, but the explanation isn't forthcoming. When he tries to find the words, all he gets are flashes of brutality that choke him. 

“It’s about how you were injured, isn’t it?” Brock’s head jerks up, to find Jefferson smiling sadly. “You freaked out when I touched your scars…” His hands moves, hovering over Brock’s right arm for a moment before pulling back once again. Brock can’t take his eyes off that pale hand, so close to the red, grotesque twisting of his skin. 

“You’re way too observant,” Brock sighs. It’s enough of an admission to encourage Jefferson. 

“Will you tell me how it happened?”

Brock doesn’t have the heart to say no, but doesn’t have the stomach to say yes. So he offers a diversion: “I don’t want that shit in your head...” Jefferson isn’t buying it.

“Well it’s in your head,” he argues. “And it’s clearly doing you no good to just keep it there.”

Brock raises an eyebrow. “And what? You think putting it off on you will help?”

“That’s what I’m offering, yeah,” Jefferson shrugs. He reaches to hold Brock’s hands again, his gaze pleading. “You can tell me anything, I mean it.” Heart wins out.

“I was standing too close to a truck that was rigged with an IED.” The honesty drags out of him like sandpaper, and the look of shock on Jefferson’s face is just salt in the wound. He drops his head against the back of the couch, staring at the ceiling. “Burned right through my uniform. I don’t even remember it, even though apparently I was still conscious afterwards.”

“Oh my god…”

“That’s one way to say it,” Brock drawls, rolling his head to look back at Jefferson. “I told you, ugly stuff.”

“Sounds like you’re lucky to be alive.”

“Definitely lucky,” Brock chuckles. “Jack was with me and he’s got some basic medical training. Got a jump start on patching me up so the medics could get to work faster once they got to us.”

“You and he served together?”

“Yeah,” Brock sighs. “Met in basic. We were always together since our names are close alphabetically, I think. Then we ended up in the same unit.” Brock smiles vaguely at the memory. It’s tainted now.

“That’s a long time to know somebody...” Jefferson murmurs.

“More than ten years,” Brock sighs. “He actually...once I was shipped back to the states, he took leave to come help me with recovery, since I didn’t really have anybody. Once I was ok on my own, he went back for a couple more tours, but they wouldn’t take me because of, well...” He grimaces. “Nightmares, flashbacks...I was a mess.”

“You have PTSD—”

“If you want to sound fancy about it, sure,” Brock shrugs. The clinical terms grate on his skin. “Anyway, I got the job I have now, and put in a good word for Jack, once he got out.”

Jefferson nods, but he’s looking away. “He’s your best friend…”

“I guess so, yeah,” Brock murmurs. They’ve never really put it in those terms before but...yeah. “Why do you look like somebody kicked your puppy?”

For a moment, he thinks Jefferson’s going to deny it, but then the omega just bites down on his lip, his face scrunching up like he wants to cry. “Why would you choose me over your best friend?”

Brock opens his mouth, “I…” then closes it. Is Jefferson really still stuck on that night? “That’s not what I did…” Jefferson shakes his head. “That’s not what I did!”

“I promise you that’s how he sees it,” Jefferson whispers.

“Fuck how he sees it!” Brock snaps. “He didn’t have to choose to be an asshole, I just responded accordingly.” Jefferson sighs softly, making Brock frown. “What? Are you mad at me for defending you?”

“No!” Jefferson quickly amends, eyes going wide. “No, of course not, I just…I just don’t want you and your friend to be on bad terms because of me.”

“It’s not because of you,” Brock says resolutely. “It’s because of him.”He’s not apologizing for that. 

“Ok,” Jefferson murmurs. Brock gets the distinct feeling that he’s just being mollified. But Jefferson leans in to press a kiss to his lips, and he finds he can deal with that. “Are we going back to bed now?”

“Sounds great.”

Over the next few days, Jefferson tries more than once to press him about making up with Jack but soon figures out that Brock’s stubbornness is the immovable object, no matter how irresistible Jefferson’s force may try to be. On the basis of pride alone, Brock’s not about to apologize for his actions, even though he knows Jack won’t be forthcoming either. They avoid each other at work, planting themselves on opposite sides of the club for the duration of their shifts together. 

Natasha’s ready to throttle them both, but she’s also not really interested in wading through their drama. Instead she settles for sending death glares out of the corner of her eye, sharp enough to feel from across a room.

Meanwhile, he and Jefferson fall into routine. Breakfast together before Jefferson leaves for work, then dinner together before Brock does the same. They’re comfortable with each other, with sharing Brock’s apartment. Jefferson’s never officially moved in, but his clothes are in Brock’s closet (and scattered across the floor), while his books and craft projects are on just about every flat surface available. Brock even learning to deal with the constant clutter, though he still makes sure that, at the very least, the chaos stays in isolated areas.

It’s easy to put the bullshit with Jack out of his mind. And it gets easier and easier as they approach Jefferson’s heat.

He gets to watch now, see firsthand how it all gets worse and worse as they approach that first week of the month, the one he’s learning to dread as much as Jefferson has since puberty. He gets to watch how Jefferson stops reading, stops sewing, stops lighting up when he smiles, until even the most basic tasks—eat, drink, shower—are things Brock has to beg him to do, and the only sleep he gets is from passing out after Brock’s done his damnedest to temper the needs burning through the omega’s wrecked body. Even though his rut is flaring, too, he’s careful. He never wants to hear Jefferson complain about being sore or overtired again. 

Brock’s never been one of those people who thought a kiss could be better than sex. Could a kiss be good? Sure. But even a good kiss couldn’t beat out the full-body experience of sex. However, when Jefferson wanders into the kitchen the morning after his heat’s broken, nuzzling into Brock’s chest with sleepy smiles and soft good mornings and messy hair, the kiss they share, Brock cupping his face and holding him tightly, is better than any sex he’s ever had.

******

The sun’s just starting to rise on a Sunday morning in late January as Brock extricates himself from Jefferson’s graceful limbs and eases out of bed. Jefferson mumbles in his sleep, wrapping his arms tight around Brock’s pillow as he burrows further under the covers, but shows no signs of waking.He’d been up even after Brock got home around midnight the night before, and doesn’t have to work today, so Brock fully intends on letting him sleep in.

As for himself, he grabs something to drink before heading into the spare room he’s got set up as a makeshift gym, shoves headphones into his ears, and sets about his morning workout.

It’s only about an hour later that Jefferson opens the door, a cup of tea in his hand. Brock smiles as he looks up from where he’s stretching on the floor.

“What are you doing up?” he asks as he turns off his music. “Figured I wouldn’t be seeing you vertical until around noon.”

Jefferson chuckles, shrugging one shoulder as he fully enters the room. “I don’t know, just woke up I guess,” he smiles, sitting down near Brock with his long legs folded comfortably underneath him. “The bed got cold without you.”

“My bad,” Brock grins. “Sorry, I’m all gross, or I’d kiss you good morning.”

Jefferson just rolls his eyes before leaning closer, and Brock meets him halfway for a soft peck.

“You’re right, you are gross,” Jefferson giggles.

“Not like I didn’t warn you,” he chuckles, pulling his arms over his head to stretch them out a little more. He smirks when he catches Jefferson staring over the rim of his mug, eyes crawling over the lines of his biceps. “Like what you see?”

“No more so than you do when you look in the mirror,” Jefferson smirks back, though he is blushing.

Brock raises an eyebrow. “Did you just call me vain?” Jefferson shrugs, pursing his lips innocently.

“I think you like looking good,” he replies. “Otherwise you wouldn’t be in here every morning.”

“True enough,” Brock shrugs, smirking once again. “I’ve gotta keep up, you know? Since you’re so pretty without even trying.” 

Jefferson’s blush deepens instantly; he even tries to hide it behind his mug. “I don’t look like you…”

“Why look like me when you look like you?” Brock chuckles, leaning on one hand as he watches Jefferson flounder for a response.

“W-well if you keep feeding me so much I’m not gonna be pretty much longer,” he finally blurts out.

“Pardon me?”

“I-I…” Jefferson swallows thickly. “You make me remember to eat way more than I used to and now I’m getting this…” He gestures vaguely to his midriff. “This…stomach…”

Brock snorts. “You can’t be serious—”

“I am!” Jefferson protests, setting down his cup and tugging up his shirt. Sure enough, Brock does notice a little extra softness around his stomach and his hips, pouching out over where his sweatpants hug his skin.“See?”

“I see that you have gorgeous body,” Brock smiles. “And that you’ve got nothing to be embarrassed about.”

Jefferson quickly pulls his shirt back down. “But…” he trails off, seemingly lost for what to say in response. Brock sighs, shifting to put his hands on Jefferson’s waist.

“Maybe you should let me take a closer look,” he purrs. Jefferson raises an eyebrow at him, but when Brock just shrugs, a grin begins to creep across his face, making his dimples peek out.

“If you insist,” he sighs dramatically. “Maybe your old eyes need to be closer to see right.”

“Now that’s just rude,” Brock pouts, though he does smile when Jefferson giggles and lets himself be laid down onto his back. The mat Brock has on the wood floor provides a little extra cushion underneath them, which Jefferson squirms against as his rucked up shirt tickles his skin. Brock smiles as he presses a kiss to Jefferson’s lips, then slips down, laying little kisses across Jefferson’s stomach. Creamy skin, gentle curves, and full limbs. He just wants to take a bite. When he sees Jefferson smirking down at him, he gives in to that urge and nips just below the omega’s navel. Jefferson gasps in surprise, but immediately dissolves into laughter when Brock nuzzles his stomach.

“Quit!” Jefferson whines, pushing at Brock’s head. 

“Don’t have to get pushy,” Brock chuckles as he rests his chin on Jefferson’s stomach. “You know they’re called ‘love handles’ for a reason, right?” 

“That’s so cheesy and you know it…”

“Maybe,” Brock grins. “But I also know that I really like the way your body looks. And I especially like knowing that you’re eating the way you should because of me.”

Jefferson rolls his eyes, winding a lock of Brock’s hair around his fingers. “You worry too much.”

“I worry just enough,” Brock retorts, pushing himself up so he’s leaning over Jefferson. The omega’s hair is haloing his face, and pretty grey-blue eyes smile up at him. “Somebody’s got to worry about you since you won’t do it yourself.”

“Oh my _hero_ ,” Jefferson mewls, slipping his arms around Brock’s neck.

“Careful, hero’s a four-letter word,” Brock mutters. Jefferson just hums as he pulls Brock closer, and Brock’s not about to argue with the soft, warm lips that invite him in.

They could stay like this forever, losing hours in just kissing. Like being a teenager, or so the saying goes. Brock was never a teenager like this, moving his hands slowly along his partner’s body, flexing his grip against supple thighs as his teeth and tongue tease Jefferson’s lips. Never anything more, not when Jefferson isn’t in heat. He always stops them the moment things get too heavy, just like he does now, as soon as Brock’s fingers move under his shirt, just barely brushing over his chest.

He doesn’t even have to say anything, just makes the smallest little sound of displeasure, twitching away, and Brock knows he’s crossed the line. “Ok,” he nods, sighing heavily as he moves onto his side, propping himself up on his elbow. Jefferson sits up, pulling his knees to his chest.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers.

“Don’t,” Brock sighs. “It’s alright, really.”

Jefferson doesn’t look convinced, his eyebrows knitting together as he stares at the floor. “It’s not alright,” he sighs, just as Brock’s about to ask him what’s wrong. “You want to have sex but I just can’t and—”

“Hey, stop,” Brock interrupts, pushing himself up. “Give me some credit, ok? It’s not all about sex. If it was we wouldn’t be here.”

“I don’t mean that…” Jefferson sighs. “I want to.” He shakes his head before resting his cheek on Brock’s shoulder, the pressure making his nose scrunch cutely. “And you want to, but every time we get close…”

“You get nervous.” It’s not like he hasn’t seen it happen over and over, the sudden shift from arousal to uncertainty that flashes through Jefferson’s eyes as soon as Brock makes one move too far. “I mean, if it just seemed like you weren’t interested, that’d be one thing. But you are, you’re just scared…” He trails off when he sees Jefferson’s jaw tensing, his lips curling into a pained frown. Panic sets in almost immediately. “N-not that there’s anything wrong with that—”

“No, you’re right.” Jefferson’s soft voice cuts him off, and Brock swallows the nonsensical words still bubbling up in his throat. Jefferson sighs again. When he leans away, Brock’s shoulder aches with the sudden cold of the loss. He waits, watching Jefferson wrestle with his thoughts.

“It’s not something I’m doing, right?” Brock presses. Not like he’s got any idea what to do when he’s this out of his depth. Jefferson hesitates, his eyes darting away. Brock’s heart drops. “It is something I’m doing…”

“No! I mean…” Jefferson bites his lip, still fighting with himself. “I don’t know, it’s just sometimes—”

“What?”

“You can be kind of...rough...”

Brock flinches back. “Rough?” he repeats. It’s not like he doesn’t know he’s got those tendencies, but he thought he’d been better around Jefferson. “What do you mean?”

Jefferson’s looking just as shocked as Brock feels. He shrinks away, refusing to make eye contact. “I-I said it’s just sometimes,” he argues, though his voice is weak. 

“It’s often enough to make an impact.”

Jefferson’s worrying his lip between his teeth. Brock tries to reach out to soothe him but he pulls away. “You grab at me,” he whispers. “Hard, for no reason. Like you’re trying to control me.”

“That’s not true...”

“Yes it is!” Jefferson snaps. 

“No. I’m not trying to control you,” Brock insists.

“But you can be rough.”

Brock opens his mouth, but he has no defense against that. If Jefferson’s saying it, it’s probably true. He bites down on the inside of his cheek and looks away. He’s been trying to be better…

Unfortunately, Jefferson takes his silence as a cue to leave the room, but Brock’s following behind him immediately.

“Where are you going?”

“To be alone,” Jefferson chokes out as he beelines for their bedroom. “Since you don’t want to talk to me.”

“I never said that!” Brock jogs to catch up with Jefferson, grabbing the omega’s wrist to stop him. “Stop it, you’re being ridiculous—”

“Don’t tell me what to do!” Jefferson hisses, ripping his arm out of Brock’s hold. He stumbles away from the force of his own pulling, and guilt sinks in Brock’s stomach when he sees red streaks on Jefferson’s arm, caused by his hand. How can he argue when he’s the one who keeps putting marks on Jefferson’s body…

“I’m not being ridiculous.” Jefferson says it like he’s trying to convince himself, then turns away from Brock again.

“Baby, please…” 

Brock makes it another few steps, but the coffee table’s between them now, and Jefferson doesn’t hesitate to kick at it. 

“What the fuck?!” Brock yells as the table narrowly misses his shins before toppling, sending several books flying across the floor. 

“Don’t follow me!” Jefferson shouts back, his voice cracking as he staggers back a little further. He’s favoring his foot, the one he kicked the table with, but even though Brock’s desperate to make sure he isn’t hurt, he doesn’t move as Jefferson disappears into the bedroom, locking the door behind him.

“Goddamnit,” Brock growls. The table is made the victim once again as he shoves it angrily. In the quiet that follows, Brock can hear weak little sobs from the bedroom. Each one wrenches painfully in him, but as he stares at the door and the knocked over table, the blockade Jefferson’s put between them, he thinks better of his instinct to follow Jefferson any further.

Back to the punching bag. He needs to burn.

******

An hour. Until it hurts. And then another, just for good measure, until he has to grab the bag and lean against it to stay standing, pushing his forehead against the cool, synthetic fabric. It does no good. Guilt’s still eating at him.

He drops to the floor, groaning as he presses the heel of his hand into the bridge of his nose. When he rolls his shoulders, his back and right arm curse him for getting too aggressive. They’ve never really been the same since getting the skin peeled off them, no matter how much physical therapy he tries to do. 

All he can think about is whether or not Jefferson’s still crying, but he’s been too much of a coward to go check. Now it’s time to bite the bullet.

Unfortunately, he gets caught up righting the coffee table on his way to the bedroom. It keeps seeming off kilter, too close the couch, then too far, then on an angle and he has to start over. By the time he gets it right and starts trying to pile the books back in their places, he faces a second problem. The damn things won’t spread out neatly. Too many in one pile, then too many on one end, the whole thing’s off balance. The colors start to clash too and he’s ready to scream…

“Brock, stop.”

He flinches when Jefferson’s voice cuts through his mind, making his head jerk up. Jefferson’s peeking out from the doorframe, puffy, red eyes looking over him with worry. He’s wearing Brock’s jacket. He’s taken to doing that around the house. “They’re just books, stop.”

Brock shuts his eyes before pushing up. Just books. But books would never really the point. He let’s out a heavy breath.

“What? You heard me being neurotic through the door?”

Jefferson rolls his eyes. “More or less,” he murmurs. “I guess I’m making you nervous again…”

“And I’m doing the same to you, or you wouldn’t be half hiding behind the door,” Brock moves forward to lean against the doorframe.“You doing ok, beautiful?”

The petname brings a little light back to Jefferson’s eyes and he shrugs one shoulder. “Yeah,” he murmurs. “You look a mess, though…” 

Brock sighs, running a hand through his hair. “I have two compulsions, and neither of them ends up being very attractive.”

“I’m sorry…”

“Stop with that,” Brock groans. “You don’t need to apologize to me.”

“Just maybe to your coffee table.”

“I think it forgives you.” Brock smiles, drawing a smile out of Jefferson in return. But it doesn’t last very long, Jefferson’s staring at the floor soon enough. “Your foot’s ok, right?”

“Yeah, just a little bruise,” he mutters. “I don’t know why I did it…I got upset and it just—”

“You don’t have to explain, I get it.” Good god does he get it, from his bruised hands to his aching back. He folds his arms across his chest, his shoulders hunching. Here they are once again, stuck in a doorway, with Jefferson flushed from crying. All because of him. His gaze falls to his feet. “...’m sorry…” he mumbles after a moment. 

“I know you are.”

“I guess we’re supposed to talk this all over, right? Now that we’ve ‘cooled down’.”

“Sounds like a good idea,” Jefferson nods as he opens the door a little wider. “But only if you take a shower first. You stink.”

Brock’s eyebrows raise. “You didn’t mind a couple hours ago.”

A little grin pulls at Jefferson’s lips. “Well, you weren’t nearly so gross a couple hours ago.” 

Brock scoffs. “Not my fault you’ve been bogarting the only room in the house with a shower.”

“Excuses, excuses,” Jefferson purrs. 

“You know, if you’re gonna tease me, you could at least give me a kiss. ” Jefferson rolls his eyes dramatically, leaning against the door. Brock takes a step closer. “Come on, beautiful, give me a kiss…” Jefferson giggles, ducking his head shyly when Brock leans in. Brock lets his lips fall on Jefferson’s cheek, light as he can manage, and leans back almost immediately. “See you in a few,” he whispers before heading towards the shower.

Warm water does him good, easing some of his soreness, as does knowing Jefferson’s no longer angry. He doesn’t know how the hell, or what the hell, they’re going to talk about, though. And that alone is enough to make him scratch a little too hard as he’s working soap into his skin.

Jefferson’s on the bed when he comes out of the bathroom with just a towel around his waist. The omega bashfully looks away, allowing Brock to get dressed before he glances back. Brock wants to say something, but he can’t quite manage the easy flirtation from earlier, and ends up just staring at his hands as he sits on the edge of the bed.

“Come here…” Jefferson’s soft voice floats across the quiet, and when Brock looks up he sees him smiling, resting his chin on his knee. “I mean it, don’t be all distant.”

Brock sighs, a little laugh slipping out as he crawls across the bed to lay down next to where Jefferson’s sitting. Before he knows it, Jefferson’s face to face with him, having slipped down onto his side as well.

“Hi,” he murmurs.

“Hi,” Brock replies. It’s quiet again, and Jefferson’s hand comes up to rest over Brock’s, brushing gently over the bruises on his knuckles.

Naturally, Jefferson’s the one who finds it in him to speak first. “I’m sorry I made it sound like you were the problem.” 

And instantly Brock’s rushing to do damage control. “Jesus… Stop blaming yourself for everything that goes wrong. If I’m a problem then I’m a problem, and you need to tell me that.”

“But you got upset and that isn’t what I wanted…”

“I can toughen up,” Brock protests. “I’m not always great with brutal honesty, that doesn’t mean I don’t need to hear it.” He shakes his head, turning his hand slightly so he can stroke his fingers along Jefferson’s palm. “Especially if it involves me hurting you.”

“You’re not hurting me,” Jefferson murmurs. “You’re rougher than you realize but you’re not hurting me.” 

“I’m not really seeing the distinction…”

“You’re not an abuser.” Brock frowns and looks up from their hands, finding Jefferson looking at him hard. “You’re scared of that, I know you are. But you’re not like that, I never wanted to make you think you were like that.”

Brock’s tongue drags across his teeth as he lets his eyes close. “You’re scary when you read people like that,” he mutters. Warm lips brush against the tip of his nose, making him smile. 

“Oh, you know, just looking out for you.” The light teasing in Jefferson’s voice coaxes Brock’s eyes open again. “Since you don’t like to look out for yourself.”

“Guess we both need to be looked out for a little,” he agrees. “And if I’m doing something you don’t like, then I’ll stop.”

“It’s not just about you, though,” Jefferson sighs. He rests his head back down on the pillow, a little frown pulling at his lips. “The way you touch me is really, really good most of the time.”

Brock nods, though he’s frowning too now. “So where’s the problem come in?” Jefferson pulls his lip between his teeth, nipping it red as he hesitates. It makes discomfort prick in Brock’s stomach. “What is it, baby?” he whispers, sliding his hand across Jefferson’s middle as he shifts closer. Jefferson looks up at him, and Brock can’t help remembering having those worried eyes pin him in an entirely different way. “You can tell me.”

“It’s just…” Jefferson holds Brock gaze for a moment before he squeezes his eyes shut. “Sex has never been something good for me, you know?” He turns his head away from Brock, letting his hair fall in his eyes. “Until you all it meant was losing control...waking up sore and ashamed and alone, even with someone else in bed.” Brock’s almost concerned Jefferson’s going to bite through his bottom lip. “And even with you I’m only half there.”

Brock nods. Nothing he doesn’t know, even if it makes him sick to think about how people have abused Jefferson. Of course the only thing that comes to mind when he feels aroused is bad memories, if any memories at all. “But it would be different if you weren’t in heat, right?”

Jefferson laughs softly, and when he looks at Brock, it’s with sad eyes. “That’s the point. I’d actually be there, with you, the whole time. And I don’t…” he hesitates again. “I mean, I’ve never…done that before…” 

“You’ve never…” Brock has to roll the idea around in his mind before the meaning finally settles like a rock in his stomach. A laugh wheezes out of him.

Jefferson’s never actually had sex.

Which means that Brock would more or less be his first time when they finally do sleep together.

Yeah, _that’s_ not a huge responsibility…

“Can you say something please?” 

Apparently he’s been quiet for too long, because there’s anxiety setting in all over Jefferson’s body, from the way his shoulders raise to his ears, to how his hand comes up to tug at his hair.

“Fuck, sorry,” Brock mutters. He’s always doing this. “Just wasn’t expecting to hear that. I mean, I kind of figured, but actually hearing you say it…”

Jefferson nods, and Brock sees some tension drain from his body. “Guess you weren’t expecting to find out you’re dating a twenty-two year old virgin.”

“Well virgin’s a bit strong,” Brock laughs, but clears his throat awkwardly when Jefferson shrugs and looks away. “I mean, unless, I don’t know…unless that’s what you feel like?”

“I do,” Jefferson says firmly, but then wavers. “It’s never been me in bed with any of those alphas. I don’t know what they did…what I did…” He trails off, but Brock doesn’t need to hear any more.

“Ok,” he nods. Jefferson’s eyelashes flutter against his cheeks as he blinks, shy.

“You’re really ok with all of that?”

“Of course I am, it’s not your fault,” Brock smiles. “Makes a whole lot of sense, actually, why you would get nervous, since you don’t really know what to expect.” 

“Yeah,” Jefferson sighs. “It’s just so overwhelming, you know? When we’re in the middle of it...”

“Believe me, I know,” Brock chuckles, watching pink rise in Jefferson’s cheeks.

“It’s not even that I mind it when you’re a little rough,” he continues. “It’s just…more that I don’t know what to do with, I guess.”

“You’re not ready for it yet,” Brock offers. “Gotta take it one step at a time when you’re new to something.”

It doesn’t take long for Brock’s favorite, funny smile to curl its way onto Jefferson’s face, dotting dimples in his full cheeks. Brock has to smile in response. It’s contagious, that kind of breathtaking happiness. 

“You set the pace, ok? Let me know what you’re good with and when.” Lightly, so lightly, he lets his fingertips glide down Jefferson’s arm, and smiles when the omega draws in a little breath, chills raising on his skin. “And I’ll be as gentle as you want until you’re ready for more.”

“You’re too good to me,” Jefferson sighs, starry-eyed, as he curls up closer to Brock.

“Just giving you what you deserve,” Brock replies, planting a kiss on the omega’s forehead. 

He’ll believe it one day, that he really deserves the best. Whether or not he’ll always believe Brock is the best is another thing entirely. 

God knows Brock doesn’t believe it. 


	6. Chapter 6

Jefferson’s next heat is a hard one, coming early and staying late. Brock has to miss work twice to make sure Jefferson doesn’t hurt himself and, even so, he finds himself wondering if he might be doing more harm than good when, half the time, Jefferson screams at even the softest touch. 

Having confined them to the bedroom, and having removed everything breakable, flammable, or sharp enough to stab with, he let’s Jefferson tear through like a hurricane. Talking doesn’t do much good, but he still tries, even when the conversations are only one-sided, or when Jefferson’s barely making sense through his sobbing. Anything to pass the time or even calm the hysterical omega for a moment.

He only physically intervenes when it looks like Jefferson might do real damage—like when he uses his nails to rip into the skin of his wrists. Brock holds him in a cold shower for half an hour after that, listening to him cry and say he’s sorry over and over as Brock presses a towel over the bleeding scratches and tells him it’s ok, it’s not his fault.

When the shift finally happens, five days in, and Jefferson throws himself at Brock, begging him to relieve the pressure building inside his body, it doesn’t even seem like sex. The motions are mechanical. He uses his hands, his mouth, until those don’t satisfy Jefferson anymore. The omega’s got tears in his eyes and can’t even look at Brock as he quietly asks the alpha to take him, to make it stop hurting. 

Brock’s body doesn’t want to at first, but he manages, makes it as good for Jefferson as he can until the omega’s arching up and crying out. His knot’s triggered by the draw of an omega in heat, but barely lasts five minutes when he’s left with Jefferson’s unconscious, limp body underneath him, all bandaged wrists and tear-streaked cheeks. He pulls away and tucks Jefferson in carefully, making sure he’s got the softest pillow under his head, and a smaller one to hold, since he likes having something to grab onto when he’s asleep. The kisses he presses to Jefferson’s forehead and lips are tender, and he tells himself the final one he lays against the omega’s neck has nothing to do with checking for a pulse. 

He doesn’t know how long he lays there, just watching Jefferson’s face smooth out into peaceful dreaming. Part of him desperately wants the omega to wake up, just in the hopes of seeing him smile with clear eyes, but another part knows Jefferson needs to rest. So he lays there and waits, for what he isn’t sure.

Finally, Jefferson tightens his arms around the pillow he’s holding and rolls onto his front, letting out little sleepy snuffles as his nuzzles into the pillow under his head. Brock breaths a sigh of relief. The heat’s broken; when he’s in the thick of it, he sleeps like a rock, immobile. Brock smiles as he pulls up the blanket to cover Jefferson’s back, gently brushing his fingers through the omega’s hair as he presses a kiss to his shoulder. 

When he looks up, sleepy, grey-green eyes are looking back at him.

“Didn’t mean to wake you,” Brock murmurs apologetically. Jefferson shrugs

“S’ok,” he mumbles in a rough, but contented voice. He shifts and lifts his hand to brush his hair out of his eyes, but the moment his gaze falls on his bandaged wrist he freezes. Instantly, all drowsiness is gone from him.“Oh god…”

“Don’t freak out—” Brock tries to intervene, but Jefferson’s already sitting up, gasping in horror as he sees that both wrists are wrapped in gauze. When he looks back up at Brock it’s with tearful eyes.

“What did I do?”

“It’s nothing I—”

“Don’t lie to me!” Jefferson jerks back when Brock reaches out for him, holding his wrists away from his body, like he can’t bring himself to realize they’re actually still a part of him. “Tell me what I did.”

“You scratched yourself,” Brock sighs. “That’s all, I swear. I dozed off and when I woke up you were pacing around the room and scratching your wrists.” Jefferson doesn’t seem to believe him, shaking his head weakly.

“All this just for scratches…?”

“Well it was a kind of large area,” Brock admits. “I didn’t have anything else big enough, so the gauze and padding had to do.”

Jefferson’s hands are shaking now, but he allows Brock to cover them with his own. “W-was…” he chokes, swallowing thickly. “Was I trying to…”

Brock frowns, then his eyes go wide as he realizes the question. “No,” he insists quickly. “No, you were not trying to kill yourself.” Jefferson flinches just at the words. “You scratch when you’re anxious, it wasn’t anything more than that.” 

Jefferson tries to nod, but his shaking has moved from his hands into his whole body. When he opens his mouth to speak, no sound comes out.

“Hey, it’s alright,” Brock murmurs, pulling Jefferson into his arms and rubbing his back slowly. Jefferson clings to him, pressing his face into Brock’s chest. “You’re alright, baby, I promise.”

They stay that way for a while, Brock takes to rocking Jefferson slightly, grounding him in the hopes it will help him calm down. He’s certain Jefferson’s just shaken up, but when all he’s met with is a trembling form in his arms, that knowledge doesn’t alleviate the dead weight of worry in his chest. 

Eventually, Jefferson finds his voice, drawing in a weak breath. “Thank you,” he whispers. “For putting up with me, with all this…”

Brock shakes his head. At least it’s not more apologizing. “No need to thank me.”

“Yes there is.” Jefferson’s eyes find Brock’s face. “Dealing with all of this, it’s not nothing, and it can’t be easy. So thank you.” 

Brock just shrugs, smiling weakly before kissing Jefferson’s hair. “I do it for you…” he mutters. 

“Why?” It’s harder to look Jefferson in the eye this time, but Brock manages it. Jefferson waits until he does before continuing. “No one’s ever done what you do for me. Almost no one has even tried…”

“I don’t know…” It’s a reflexive answer. He does know. He’s known for a while. “I mean, when I say I do it for you, I’m not just running my mouth. I don’t wanna see you hurting, you know?” He rubs his hand against the back of his neck. “I…I l-like you, so…” 

He trails off, but Jefferson’s very nearly glowing as he smiles up at him. He leans in to kiss Brock’s cheek, which heats up under the caress. “I like you too,” he murmurs.

“I know you do,” Brock nods. He knows it every time Jefferson so much as glances at him. “And I know that you need to get some sleep,” he adds, stealing a kiss from Jefferson’s lips. Jefferson rolls his eyes, but he does yawn at the suggestion.

“So do you,” he responds, laying down and smiling up at Brock. “Hope you aren’t catching my insomnia.”

“Don’t think so,” Brock smiles back. When he lays down on his back, Jefferson rests his head on Brock’s chest, fingertips gliding over his collarbone. 

“I’m glad tomorrow’s Sunday,” he whispers. Brock chuckles. Sundays are the day they both have off. It’s become special in that way, a day they have to themselves.

“Well if we stay up too late we’re gonna end up sleeping through the day,” he replies. Jefferson laughs softly, kissing Brock’s chest before tucking in closer to his side. He’s asleep as soon as Brock starts running a hand through his hair.

******

Brock wakes up to find Jefferson not just curled up to his side, but actually laying across the top of him, and has to laugh to himself. Sometimes, he swears Jefferson grows extra arms just for the sake of octopussing around him. But it’s at least a significant improvement from where they were a month or so earlier, when Jefferson was nearly kicking him out of bed every night. 

“You gonna let me get up, baby?” Brock purrs, trailing his fingers up Jefferson’s spine. The omega squirms a little, but only to burrow in closer, and shows no signs of waking. Shaking his head, Brock sighs and wraps his arms around Jefferson, giving in to the fact that he’s probably not moving for a while. 

He’ll never get over how gorgeous Jefferson is first thing in the morning. He’s gorgeous all the time, of course, but there’s something special about the softness in his face while he’s rested, hair falling in his eyes, his full lips relaxed into a sweet pout. 

Brock finds himself torn. As lovely as Jefferson may be while sleeping, it does get a little dull being the only one awake in bed. He starts tracing patterns on Jefferson’s back, as light as he can. 

Ever since Jefferson mentioned how rough he could be, he’s been doing his damnedest to be careful every time he reaches for Jefferson, making sure he’s not about to grip too tightly or pull too harshly. He’s pretty sure Jefferson’s noticed, considering how the omega will smile softly every time Brock’s hand flutters over him, closing the distance between them willingly.

Right now, however, Jefferson just squirms again, whining petulantly. Brock bites his tongue to keep from chuckling. When his fingers slide down to tickle Jefferson’s side, the omega rolls away from him, spreading out onto his back with a little frown that soon calms back into a blithe expression.

“Don’t be annoyed,” Brock murmurs, then brushes a kiss against the gentle curl of Jefferson’s fingers before sliding out of bed, heading into the bathroom for a quick shower. 

It’s already late in the morning, and he doesn’t really feel like a workout today. Instead he chooses to go into the kitchen, starting with coffee and tea for them both. He smiles as the room fills with the rich, spiced scent of both, breathing deep what’s become a morning fixture in their life. 

With two mugs in hand, he returns to the bedroom, setting both on the side table and easing back into bed. Jefferson’s rolled back onto his stomach and shoved a pillow under his chest. He mumbles something incoherent when Brock dips the bed beside him. 

“You ready to wake up yet?” Brock whispers against Jefferson’s shoulder. When there’s no response, he tucks Jefferson’s hair back behind his ear, letting a little more light from the window fall on the omega’s eyes, dusting gold on those long eyelashes. That does get a reaction, in the form of Jefferson making a tiny fussing sound. 

“Come on, don’t leave me hanging, baby,” he continues, kissing along Jefferson’s shoulder as his hand slides down Jefferson’s back. His lips reach Jefferson’s neck, and the omega mewls softly when Brock tongue flicks against the soft spot below his jaw. “That’s it,” Brock murmurs, nuzzling closer until he can find Jefferson’s lips for a sweet kiss.

He grins when he feels Jefferson hum and start to kiss back, leaning away after just a few moments. Jefferson grins back at him with half-lidded eyes, rolling onto his back and rubbing his eyes sleepily.

“Morning,” he yawns.

“Good morning, beautiful,” Brock replies, unabashedly admiring the view in front of him when Jefferson closes his eyes and moans through a luxurious stretch. “Very good morning, apparently.”

Jefferson rolls his eyes, flushing prettily as he pushes himself up to lean against the headboard. He smiles brightly when Brock hands him his tea, breathing in the scent before taking a long drink.

“You’ve finally figured out the right amount of honey to put in,” he teases.

“See? I can learn,” Brock smirks, resting his hand on Jefferson’s thigh and rubbing lightly through the sheet. Jefferson warms instantly at the touch.

“I know you can,” he replies. Brock hides his shyness behind his coffee, but he can still feel Jefferson’s eyes on him. “You’re being so sweet.”

“Well you earned a nice day,” he shrugs. “Since the past few were pretty hard for you.”

Jefferson’s gaze lowers as he nods, letting out a sigh. Brock instantly regrets what he’s done to tarnish the light and easy mood. “Is it ok to take off the bandages yet?”

“Oh, yeah, of course.” Brock sets down his mug, cradling Jefferson’s wrists, one at a time, in his hand as he careful unwraps the gauze, delicate as possible to avoid any ache or sting.

Jefferson’s skin still looks a little raw underneath, but doesn’t look nearly as bad as it had a couple days earlier. “Does it hurt at all?”

Jefferson shakes his head, turning and stretching his wrists, testing the damage done. “I thought it’d be a lot worse.”

“Told you it wasn’t that bad,” Brock smiles, pressing a kiss to Jefferson’s forehead.

“I’m glad you were right.”

Brock nods a little, quiet as he watches Jefferson sip at his tea again. “Are you hungry at all?” 

“A little,” Jefferson nods then flashes a smile. “But, my god, do I need a shower first…”

Those dimples set Brock grinning in reply. “Understandable,” he agrees, then an idea pops into his head and a smirk sneaks onto his face. “What if I made you pancakes while I wait?” 

Jefferson chokes a little on his drink. “Are you serious?”

“Course I am,” Brock chuckles. “You already know I’m good in the kitchen.” It’s more or less become his job to cook for them both, ever since they discovered that Jefferson is, self-proclaimedly, useless with a stove. 

“That’s so fucking cute…” 

“Well, if you’re just gonna tease me I won’t make you anything.”

He tries to sound deadpan about it, but there’s no keeping a straight face when Jefferson’s still looking at him with stars in his eyes and leaning forward to peck the bridge of his nose.

“My sweetheart,” he purrs. 

“Shut up,” Brock snorts, making Jefferson giggle before silencing him with a gentle peck. They fall into easy kisses, pulled closer to each other as Brock hand slides up Jefferson’s thigh to slip around his waist. Jefferson’s contented humming deepens into a purr when Brock’s tongue teases his lips, inviting him to open them for a deeper kiss. 

“It’s like you want to keep in bed forever,” Jefferson murmurs as he leans away. 

“It’s crossed my mind,” Brock smirks. And good god is that offer tempting, but when Jefferson blushes deeply, looking genuinely embarrassed, he sighs and raises his hand to brush his fingers gently against the pinked skin. “Not until you’re ready, you know that.”

“I know,” Jefferson nods, but he’s still a fierce pink, even as he turns to kiss Brock’s palm. He sets his cup on the bedside table, gathering the sheet shyly around his body before he gets up. Brock follows suit, but his hands aren’t free very long. 

Out of nowhere, Jefferson very nearly leaps into his arms, legs locking around his waist. Their noses bump and their teeth catch in the suddenness of it, but it only distracts for a moment before they’re drowning in deep and desperate kisses. 

Brock’s knees hit the corner of the bed and they tumble down in a tangle of limbs and sheets, gasping on each other’s breath but not pausing a moment. Jefferson lets out little moans that send warmth into Brock’s chest, and he can’t help the faint growl that slips out as his teeth claim Jefferson’s lower lip. 

He’s still careful with his hands though, and having to resist the temptation to let go is a sweet agony when Jefferson’s whining, so coy and eager, at the soft glide of Brock’s hands over his skin. He gives just enough pressure so that Jefferson’s body arches into his own, and the heat where their chests are pressed together is almost unbearable. 

When he does take hold, it’s with one arm firmly around the omega’s waist, just enough leverage to turn them over and lay Jefferson out beneath him. Jefferson falls gracefully onto his back, hands sliding up to grip Brock’s hair, ensuring that the kiss never breaks. Brock’s hand moves lower, finding a smooth thigh that’s slipped from the confines of the bedsheet, and groans as he takes a gratifying handful of the plump flesh there. 

He’s hard. So hard it hurts, and he knows Jefferson can feel it. Just like he can feel Jefferson’s own arousal, not to mention scent it; that thick sweetness coats his tongue each time he tries to take a breath to steady himself. 

He can see it in his mind: ripping the sheet out of the way and pressing forward, taking Jefferson over and over until the omega comes apart in his arms.

He wants to. More than anything.

Or…almost anything.

Because he can also see the betrayal darkening Jefferson’s face, the moment what they’ve done sets in.

“Stop,” he forces out, his hand pressing against Jefferson’s chest to keep the omega from chasing his kiss as he pulls away. As soon as they have fresh air to breathe between them, shyness returns to Jefferson’s eyes, competing with the arousal still burning in his flushed cheeks and full lips.

“Sorry,” he gasps out. “Just…got caught up.”

“I know,” Brock nods. They breathe together, their heated panting slowly evening out. Brock presses a last kiss to Jefferson’s cheek before pulling away. “Go shower,” he sighs. 

“Right,” Jefferson nods weakly, wrapping the sheet around him again. Brock lets his eyes fall closed as he listens to Jefferson move away and disappear into the bathroom, and he presses the heel of his hand into his brow. 

The moment he’s in the clear, he rolls back onto his front, burying his face in the blankets that are soaked with Jefferson’s sweetness and letting out a frustrated groan.

This keeps happening. It’s apparently the result of Brock encouraging Jefferson to be the initiator of anything more than a brief kiss; it takes until they can both hardly stand it before he’s brave enough to act, and then the second he does, they dissolve into a frenzy. But Jefferson still has no idea how to bring that frenzy to completion, and it’s evident each time one of them has the good sense to put a stop to it. 

That’s not how it should happen anyway. Jefferson knows enough about mad scrambles and forgotten inhibitions that come screaming back the moment the smoke’s cleared. Brock knows it has to be slow, gentle, with both of them present the whole time.

But how they’re going to manage that when they keep sparking hot and bright with no warning, he has no idea. He groans again. 

The shower’s running…he’s still painfully hard…

They need to change the sheets anyway.

******

An embarrassingly short time later, he has the bed stripped and remade, and is back in the kitchen with a second cup of coffee. He did promise pancakes, and he’s not about to renege on that. By the time he hears Jefferson enter the room—the soft padding of his bare feet on the wood floor giving him away—the room’s already filling with a sweet, buttery scent.

Brock’s sure he had something witty prepared to say, but the moment he turns around and sees Jefferson in the doorway, anything he might have come up with flies right out of his mind, and all he manages is a really pathetic whimper.

Jefferson’s wearing his black jacket and, at first glance, that seems to be all he’s wearing. And to make matters worse—or perhaps better— it’s slipping off one shoulder because he doesn’t have it zipped completely, exposing a tantalizing expanse of alabaster silkyness. A flash of pale blue briefs hugging Jefferson’s thigh when he runs his hands through his hair does nothing to help Brock catch his breath. A shy smirk glints on Jefferson’s face. By now, he knows very well what he can do to Brock without having to say a word.

“You’re gonna burn those.” 

Brock blinks until confusion until he remembers he’d been in the middle of cooking before Jefferson decided to nonchalantly fry his brain. 

“Fuck—” he groans, quickly turning back to the stove to rescue the pancakes from overcooking. As soon as they’re safely on a plate, Jefferson takes the opportunity to slide his arms around Brock’s waist, hands trailing over his stomach, sending shivers over Brock’s skin. “Are you trying to kill me?”

“Why would I do that?” Brock can feel the grin on Jefferson’s face as the omega kisses the back of his neck, just barely brushing over where scarring creeps up from his shoulder. It brings a smile to his own face, which Jefferson eagerly eats up when he turns around in the omega’s arms. It’s innocent this time, almost apologetic, as Jefferson caresses his face.

“You hungry?” Brock asks against Jefferson’s lips.

“Starving.” 

The more comfortable he grows in Brock’s apartment, the more Jefferson has a certain tendency to perch instead of actually sitting down anywhere, and today is no exception as he settles himself on the table, his plate taking up residence on his thighs. Brock barely notices when Jefferson’s feet prop up on his lap as soon as he’s sat down, he’s become so accustomed to this sort of thing. 

What’s far more distressing is the amount of honey Jefferson pours on top of his pancakes, though that feeling fades as sticky sweetness escapes from the plate and onto Jefferson’s fingers, encouraging the omega’s tongue to dart out, lapping up the golden drops dripping over his skin. 

Jefferson meets his gaze mid-lick, and his slick, pink tongue pauses for just a moment before continuing it’s—markedly slower now—slide up the length of his finger.

“You lost your appetite or something?” he smiles, with perfectly innocent eyes that would fool absolutely no one. Brock laughs weakly. It’s not his appetite for food that he’s concerned about right now.

“No, nothing like that,” he mutters, dropping his eyes back to his plate.

“Hey…” 

When Brock looks up at the soft syllable, he’s greeted with a smear of honey across his cheek and Jefferson giggling, elated at the mess he’s made. 

“I’m sorry,” he manages through his laughter, shaking his head so his still damp curls tangle in his face. “I thought it’d be funny.” Brock does his best to seem annoyed, just for the sake of putting on a show, but there’s no hiding his grin.

“Oh yeah, really funny,” he smirks, standing up and pushing both their plates out of the way. With Jefferson’s bright gaze so completely focused on him as he slips between the omega’s legs, it’s very easy to gather some honey on his own fingertips out of sight. “Almost as funny as this,” he adds as he streaks his fingers across Jefferson’s mouth. Jefferson gasps, indignant, but the giggling returns in seconds.

“You—!”

“Me,” Brock grins, sucking his fingers clean and winking. Jefferson blushes a gorgeous strawberry red. “You want my help tidying up?” 

Jefferson rolls his eyes, but as soon as Brock moves in, tongue lapping at plush lips, that cockiness melts into a sweetness that’s a thousand times more mouthwatering than the honey they’re sharing on their tongues could ever be. His eyes slip closed, dreamy, eyelashes fluttering, body turned to putty in Brock’s arms. It’s intoxicating, that complete and completely trusting surrender; Brock wants so desperately to be worthy of it.

A delicate finger swipes across Brock’s cheek, cleaning up, and Brock kisses the stickiness away before seeking out Jefferson’s mouth once again. Jefferson mewls to welcome him back, warm and sweet, knees tightening around Brock’s waist to invite him closer. Brock’s hands find the small of Jefferson’s back, drawing the omega to the edge to the table so their bodies are flush together.

“You drive me so fucking crazy…” he groans, dropping his head down onto Jefferson’s shoulder. Jefferson plants a kiss just below his ear.

“I know a thing or two about crazy,” he sighs. Guilt twinges in Brock’s stomach, enough to make him turn to kiss Jefferson’s cheek. “This is worlds better than crazy ever is.” 

“Sorry,” he mutters. “Bad wording…”

“It’s ok.” It falls quiet for a moment, Jefferson’s fingers making idle patterns on Brock’s shoulder. “I was actually wondering something…”

“Yeah?” Brock questions. He pulls back to get a look at Jefferson’s face and discovers pale rose dusting his cheeks. 

“I was just wondering…” Jefferson trails off again, a shy little smile sneaking onto his face. “If…maybe we should go on a date sometime?”

Brock raises an eyebrow. “A date?”

“Yeah,” Jefferson nods, and his smile widens. “I mean, if we are ‘dating’ it kind of makes sense that we should actually go on a date or two every now and then.”

“Guess that does make sense.” Though Brock would be lying if he said the thought didn’t put butterflies in his stomach. He’s not entirely sure whether the sensation is more anxiety or excitement. “Did you, uh…you know, have anything in mind?”

“Not really,” Jefferson shrugs. “I just thought it would be nice.”

“Probably would be.” Brock nods. A day out with Jefferson, really not all that different from any other day recently. He gives a self-deprecating laugh. “I’ve never been all that good at dating, I don’t really have any ideas either…”

“I don’t need anything fancy,” Jefferson shrugs, then laughs to himself. “For all I care we could go to the aquarium or something silly like that…”

“The aquarium?” Brock raises an eyebrow. Jefferson goes pink, shrugging again, more aggressively this time, and looking down.

“I don’t know, it was just off the top of my head…”

“That’s a pretty funny thing to come up with just off the top of you head, though.”

“I guess?” Jefferson’s even redder now, and this time, when he shrugs, his shoulders nearly cover his ears. “I saw an ad on a billboard or something, the other day…” His voice fades to a mumble as he fidgets with his hands in his lap. “They’ve got a new…baby shark exhibit…I think.”

“You think?” Brock chuckles. Jefferson glances up at him shyly, worrying his lip. It’s really just unbearably cute. A grin spread on his face. “Sharks are cool.”

“Don’t make fun of me, it was just—” 

“I’m not making fun of you,” Brock sighs. He cups Jefferson’s face in his hands and kisses his forehead. “If you wanna do that, we can.”

“You mean it?” Jefferson asks, hesitant. “You don’t have to say yes.”

“Well I want to say yes,” Brock smiles. “Sounds like fun.” Jefferson’s so fascinated by everything, sees so much beauty in everything; he’d probably be far more interesting than whatever’s on display. 

Jefferson’s smile glows like the sun, Brock’s almost blinded by it until Jefferson wraps him in a hug, holding tight. “Thank you,” he murmurs, giggling softly. “I know it’s silly…”

Brock takes Jefferson’s chin in his hand and silences him with a little kiss. “Been awhile since I’ve done something silly, anyway.”

Jefferson raises an eyebrow, flirtatious.“Smearing honey on me is pretty silly.”

“Well you invited that one,” Brock smirks back. Jefferson’s still glowing at him, and it makes a warmth well up in Brock’s chest that his body almost can’t contain. He shakes his head, glancing off as he smiles at a memory. “I mean, that last time I was at an aquarium I was a teenager entertaining my little brother.”

“You have a little brother?”

In a split second, Brock’s stomach turns from warm and contented to twisted and nauseated. His hands go numb, cold, falling away from Jefferson’s body.

“Brock?”

“I—” Nothing comes out. Maybe because enough’s come out already. He flinches when Jefferson’s hand brushes his cheek.

“You never told me you had a brother…” Jefferson’s hands clasp his own and he doesn’t have the heart to fight it, even though it makes nausea roll through him again, bringing up an ironic wave of honesty.

“I didn’t want you to know about him.” He didn’t want to have to explain… But Jefferson’s frown demands it of him.

“Why wouldn’t you want me to know about your brother?” What hurts most is there’s no anger in Jefferson’s eyes, only betrayal. How fitting.

Brock shakes his head, forcing words out through painfully clenched teeth. “It’s complicated.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means it’s fucking complicated!” He doesn’t mean to shout, doesn’t even realize he’s done it until…

“Please don’t yell at me.”

It’s a whisper, barely audible, but it is there. It shuts Brock up for a good thirty seconds as the reprimand settles over him. He finds his voice again, but it’s softened with embarrassment.

“I need some air.”

“We can take a walk—”

“No.” Brock interrupts.“I mean alone.” But despite it all, Jefferson doesn’t seem to want him to leave.

“No, sweetheart, talk to me,” he pleads, soft hands reaching out and landing on Brock’s arms, trying to draw him in closer. Brock roots himself into the floor, unyielding.

“I’m not talking about him…” He can’t. Not that memory, not right now. 

“You don’t have to.” It’s meant to be soothing, how Jefferson’s hands rub his arms, but he just wants to scream. His skin’s too tight and touch is only making it worse. “Talk to me about anything, don’t just—”

Brock stops listening, though Jefferson’s plaintive voice is still grating against his ears. He needs to be out, he needs to breathe.

He doesn’t even bother getting properly dressed, just grabs his coat and throws it on over his tank top and sweatpants, shoving his feet into his shoes. 

“Brock, please,” Jefferson begs. When Brock doesn’t respond, something snaps. “What could possible be so bad?! He’s your brother!”

“He was my brother!” Brock growls. It’s out before he has time to think, and Jefferson’s eyes widen in confusion, then in horror. He doesn’t need to say it, but the half-truth comes out anyway. “He died when he was thirteen.”

Before Jefferson can recover his voice, Brock’s gone from the apartment, slamming the door behind him.

******

He walks…and walks…and walks, arms crossed, gloveless hands shoved into the crooks of his arms to shield them from the cold while a biting wind stings his cheeks. He sinks his teeth into his tongue—the main offender here—as added punishment.

“Way-to-fucking-go, jackass…” he mutters to himself. He can’t believe he just blurted it out like that, any of it. Jefferson puts him so at ease, like for once in his life he’s not choking on everything he feels with more than a mild intensity. It’s terrifying when he thinks about it, how, without that damper, all sorts of nonsense bubbles up out of him…

He sighs, shaking his head.

This isn’t nonsense.

And it wasn’t Jefferson’s fault. 

But the omega’s going to think that it was, and that just makes Brock sigh again. He should go back, but he can’t, not yet. He still needs time to breathe, because god knows Jefferson makes even that difficult sometimes.

He makes it into the park and, when he sits down on an available bench, he feels something in his pocket knock against his knee. His phone, he discovers when he digs his hand in to check. Must’ve forgotten to take it out the last time he came home, and the battery’s in the yellow as a result, blinking at him disapprovingly. Excuse him for having been very, very distracted at the time.

He’s missed a call from Natasha too. A couple actually, spread out over the past few days. Probably just checking in since she knows what this time of the month means.

He’ll see her tomorrow, so it’s really not necessary to call back…

But it can’t hurt, right?

The phone rings once, twice, three times, and Brock considers giving up, but Natasha does finally answer.

“Finally breaking radio silence, I see,” she teases.

“Couldn’t just leave you hanging, could I?” he snarks back. “Considering how you’ve been blowing up my phone.” 

“Well I’ve got to check-up on you, make sure you’re holding it together after three days of not hearing anything,” Nat chuckles. Brock rolls his eyes, but before he can respond he hears a second voice on Natasha’s end.

“Who is it?” It’s soft, but that’s definitely Maria’s voice, close enough to Natasha to make it through the phone. Brock hears fabric rustling and bites his cheek as Natasha whispers her reply.

He clears his throat. “Bad time?”

Natasha snorts, and Brock can practically feel her rolling her eyes. “Brock, if it were a bad time, I wouldn’t have picked up the phone.”

“Fair enough…” Brock shakes his head. “Sorry, I don’t know why I called—”

“Yes you do.” It’s silent for a little while, just long enough for Natasha to pick up on the fact that something’s wrong. “What happened?”

Brock lets his body hit the back of the bench, staring up at nothing. The sky’s a pale, cloudy grey, warning that more snow’s probably coming later on. “Nothing gets past you, huh?”

“Are you going to fess up or not?”

Brock closes his eyes, bouncing the heel of his hand on his knee. “He knows,” is all he has to say. Natasha breathes out slowly in response, letting it hang for a moment.

“Let me guess, it came out accidentally.”

“Naturally.”

“Everything?”

“Not quite…” As if what did come out isn’t enough. “He knows he’s…” Brock swallows heavily. “But he doesn’t know how. Or what happened after.”

“So what the hell are you doing talking to me?”

Brock has to blink for a few seconds, trying to find an answer that doesn’t sound completely pathetic. He doesn’t have much luck. “W-well…” Natasha is unhelpfully silent. “Things kind of heated, I needed some air.”

“Of course.”

Brock groans under his breath. “Nat, you cannot possibly be more frustrated with me than I already am, don’t even try.”

“I believe you,” Natasha replies. “So what exactly does ‘kind of heated’ mean?”

Brock shakes his head. “Means I got clammed up and stupid and he got annoyed at me for it.”

“Nothing unusual there.”

Brock laughs weakly. “I wish you were exaggerating…”

“You know you need to go back there and explain this to him, right?”

“Yeah.” He’s known from the moment he made his slip, but bringing it to the forefront of his mind still comes with tense shoulders and a churning stomach. “I don’t want to,” he admits. “I don’t want him with that stuff in his head.”

“Knowing’s better than having to wonder,” Natasha says, matter-of-fact. And there’s a rude voice in his mind reminding him that, left alone in the apartment with only his thoughts, wondering is all Jefferson can do right now. 

“How the fuck do I tell him this?” he groans, barely audible. 

“You want my actual advice?”

“Please?”

Brock hears some movement on the other end. An image of Natasha and Maria getting comfortable together flashes through his mind, but it’s quickly replaced by a memory of Jefferson next to him in bed, messy hair and sleepy eyes as he molds their bodies together and reached to gently hold Brock’s hand. Guilt settles in his stomach. That’s where they should be right now.

“Honestly, just sit him down and say it,” Natasha finally says. “He already knows it’s going to be something serious, so you don’t have to ease him into that.”

“Right…” He rubs his fingers into his forehead, rough enough that he’s probably got a red smudge on his skin from the pressure. Natasha sighs, and her voice softens into something almost maternal.

“You’re not going to scare him away,” she murmurs. “He’s head over heels for you, you it would take so much more than this to scare him away.” Brock’s stomach twists and he struggles to get a full breath in as a pained grimace crosses his face. “He’s going to understand.”

“I don’t even understand it,” he retorts, defensive on impulse. Natasha’s unfazed.

“Then be grateful that he’s not you.”

“I am…” Every day he’s grateful that Jefferson’s exactly the opposite of him. “World’s got enough people like me. Needs more of people like him.”

“Well, I agree with at least half of that,” Natasha chuckles. “But which half, I’m not telling.”

Brock scoffs, rolling his eyes. He wants to smile, but the thought of Jefferson alone in the apartment flashes through his mind again and he just can’t manage it. “I need to go do this, don’t I?” he sighs.

“Yep.” He can hear Natasha grinning. “Go back to your baby, I’m sure he’s missing you.”

“And you go back to cuddling up with your baby,” Brock snorts.

“Oh? What makes you think she’s my baby?” Natasha purrs. “Maybe I’m hers.” The words aren’t really directed at him, Brock can hear Maria’s laughter in the background.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever floats your boat,” he mutters. “See ya, Nat.”

“Mhm, see y—” The line clicks off before she’s gotten her full sentence out, and Brock suspects Maria is the blame.

Good for them, for being happy and everything. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t a little envious of how easy their relationship seems. But he knows ‘seeming’ is probably all it is. It can’t be easy, it’s never easy.

He rests his elbows on his knees, pressing the heel of his hand into his forehead. If the earth opened up and swallowed him whole right now, he’d go without any fight.

Then again, maybe not, because that would mean leaving Jefferson.

He growls under his breath, grateful that he’s alone when the sound dissolves into a pitiful whine as the knot in his stomach tightens again.

“Man the fuck up,” he hisses to himself, pushing up off the bench.

******

The walk back is infinitely longer than the walk away had seemed. Maybe because Brock’s feet are dragging the whole time, but getting back into the apartment is somehow worse.

Jefferson’s tidied up the kitchen, put everything away and made sure no spills are left anywhere. It’s notable because it’s not something Jefferson does. He’ll tuck his mess out of the way when he’s finished with it, at least sometimes, but Brock’s still almost always the one to actually clean. He doesn’t care. It’s kind of cute how scatterbrained Jefferson can be, abandoning one task for another and then another in rapid succession, leaving a trail of half-finished endeavours in his wake. But, as he runs his fingertip over a sparklingly clean plate, lined up in a perfect row with the other freshly scrubbed dishes in the drying rack, he feels his heart break a little at the clear nervous perfectionism he knows all too well.

Things are noticeably straightened in the living room too, which hadn’t really been touched since Jefferson’s heat began to worsen. Books are in order, Jefferson’s sewing and knitting supplies are organized and neatly tucked away. Brock shakes his head, hanging up his coat and kicking off his shoes. 

Jefferson never does this.

He’s not surprised finds the omega on their bed, curled up and facing away from the door. His shoulders are trembling, little whimpers muffled by the pillow his face is pressed into. Brock’s pillow.

He closes the door and Jefferson’s shoots up, whipping around with wide eyes that go shy as soon as he sees Brock. He rubs at his eyes with the sleeve of Brock’s jacket, but his breaths are still shaky.

“Hey beautiful,” Brock smiles weakly. Jefferson tries to smile back, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“H-hi…” he whispers, sniffling weakly. Almost immediately he’s trying to launch into an apology. “I’m sorry, I—”

“Stop.” The last thing either of them needs is Jefferson apologizing more. Brock crosses the room and pulls Jefferson into his arms. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs. “I’m always fucking making you cry.”

“I cry easy…”

“That doesn’t excuse it.” Brock kisses Jefferson’s forehead, keeping one arm around his waist and bringing one hand up to stroke his thumb across Jefferson’s cheek. “I saw you cleaned up,” he adds, smiling a little. “I didn’t realize being a neat freak was catching.”

Jefferson laughs weakly, burying his face in Brock’s shoulder. “I didn’t want the mess to make you nervous when you came back,” he murmurs. “You were already upset, I didn’t want to make it worse.”

Brock closes his eyes. “You’re too good for me,” he sighs. He threads his fingers through Jefferson’s hair, guiding his face up to kiss him gently. “Too good for anybody, but especially me.”

Jefferson shakes his head weakly. “That’s not true…” If only he knew. There’s a pang in Brock’s chest at the thought. He does need to know, that’s why Brock’s here.

“Listen, I, um…” Brock hesitates. “I wanna talk to you about…all of that stuff earlier.”

“You don’t have to,” Jefferson says quickly, taking hold of Brock’s hand. “If it’s going to make you upset, I don’t—”

“I want to,” Brock nods. The breath he draws in is rough in his throat, and his lungs don’t seem to want to take it in. “I want…You’ve got a right to know about this.”

Jefferson’s almost as hesitant as he is, big blue eyes flicking across Brock’s face. “Ok,” he murmurs, watching him expectantly. Brock clears his throat, ducking his head down. Suddenly words won’t come.

“I-it’s kind of a long story,” he mutters, avoiding. “You wanna clean up, get something to drink?”

Jefferson smiles sadly and nods, seeing right through Brock. “Sure, I can do that,” he says as he steals a kiss from the corner of Brock’s mouth. “You just breathe, ok? It’s only me, and you don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to.”

“Yeah, I know, baby,” Brock sighs, keeping a hold on Jefferson’s hand for as long as he can as the omega moves away, smiling at Brock over his shoulder until the bathroom door obscures him from view.

Brock lays back on the bed, digging his thumbs into the corners of his eyes as he begins to try to string the words together in his mind. What to say, when to say it, how much detail to give… 

He hasn’t had to do this in so long. It comes out in bits and pieces, spread out over months, with the handful of people he trusts enough for that. He shakes his head. Handful. If a grand total of two counts as a handful. 

“Did you want something to drink, sweetheart?” 

Brock glances up, seeing Jefferson standing in the doorway, his face fresh and glowy from splashes of warm water. “No, baby, just get whatever you want.”

Jefferson shakes his head, crawling back onto bed and laying down next to Brock. “I’m ok,” he murmurs, taking Brock’s hand in his own. “Are you?”

“As I’ll ever be,” Brock shrugs. He glances down at their hands and squeezes Jefferson’s lightly, earning a little, encouraging squeeze in return. “I don’t really know where to start…”

“How about you tell me his name?” When Brock looks up, Jefferson’s watching him with soft, caring eyes. 

“Seems like a good place to start,” Brock agrees, licking his lips nervously. It takes a moment, but he finally manages to get it out: “Aiden.” It’s heavy in his throat. “His name was Aiden.”

Jefferson smiles. “That’s a pretty name.”

“I thought so too,” Brock agrees. “He was like that. Pretty, sweet… He was only three years younger than me but he was always kinda delicate, you know?”

“So, he was only two, when your mom…?”

“Yeah.” Brock sighs. “She was delicate too, like Aiden, but she protected us as best she could. My father would knock her around, but while she was alive he’d never done more than yell at us.” He shrugs, looking down. “It wasn’t so bad at first. As long as we didn’t cry or make messes, he ignored us.”

“You were babies…”

“Aiden was.” Brock deadpans. “But I had to grow the fuck up as soon as mom died.” 

Jefferson shakes his head, but he doesn’t seem willing to argue about it. Brock takes the cue to continue. 

“Got worse though, as we got older,” he mutters, staring at the ceiling. “I know I told you he was a mean drunk, but he didn’t need alcohol as an excuse to be a violent bastard. He’d fly into a rage dead sober. Drinking just made his fuse shorter…and helped him to not feel a thing when I tried hitting back.” He rolls his shoulders, forcing himself to take a deep breath. He keeps locking up and gripping too tight to Jefferson’s hand. “As much as possible I tried to stay out of the house with Aiden, and to keep everything the way he liked it when we were there. Orderly, quiet…”

Jefferson whispers something under his breath, pained, but just waves it off when Brock looks at him questioningly. “Nothing,” he sighs. “You can keep going.”

Brock nods, squeezing Jefferson’s hand again. The next part hurts, aches in his chest and stomach, down to the soles of his feet. “Aiden…he, um…” he falters, flinching when Jefferson tries stroking the back of his hand. “He was always little and gentle. Dad hated it, how he’d cry when he got scared and how he’d smile at strangers.” Out of nowhere his breath catches in his throat and he has to pause, eyes stinging as he tries for air that won’t come.

“It’s ok,” Jefferson murmurs. “It’s ok, take your time.” Brock forces himself to nod as Jefferson’s soft voice opens his chest for a real breath.

“When Aiden was thirteen, he presented as omega,” he continues. “And our dad…god, he really lost it. Left us alone for a week while Aiden had his heat. It was just a little one since he was so young, but dad said he couldn’t stand the…the bitch scent stinking up the place.”

“Oh my god,” Jefferson breathes. His lips press gently against Brock’s shoulder. “God, tell me your dad didn’t…”

“He never touched Aiden.” Brock tries to clear the tremor out of his voice, but it clings on. “I wouldn’t have let him even if he tried… But he got so much harder on him after that. Expected him to do most of the housework, because it was an ‘omega duty’, or some bullshit. He’d even take a swing at me if he caught me helping, not that I stopped.” 

Brock can’t even look at Jefferson now, old shame resurfacing, though he fights against it, frustration pushing his voice into an emphatic tone. “I always made sure Aiden was by my side, just in case something happened. Never let him out of my sight. And if dad got angry, I made sure he took it out on me while Aiden hid.” Brock bites his tongue, hard. “He’d cry when he had to watch me getting hurt, and when he had to help patch me up afterwards, but at least I could take a hit and keep going. Aiden, he—” Brock voice breaks out of nowhere, and though he tries to clear his throat and catch his breath, he can’t seem to get it back. He has to choke out the end of the sentence. “H-he was so little…too little to be around someone like our dad. I should’ve known it would end with—”

“Don’t say that,” Jefferson whispers. “You were a kid, you were doing your best—”

“Well my best wasn’t enough to protect him!” Brock snaps. Jefferson just sighs, and it’s enough to chastise Brock back to a softer voice. “I should’ve been able to protect him,” he mutters as he looks away. “I was his world. He loved me and trusted me and I should’ve been able to keep him safe, but I couldn’t even do that for my baby brother.”

Jefferson shakes his head but doesn’t argue, running his fingers through Brock’s hair. “Can you tell me how it happened?”

““I was stupid enough to leave Aiden alone with him.” Molten metal in his throat, seeping into his stomach. “It was only for a minute and I thought it’d be ok, but…Aiden dropped a glass. I heard it shatter, and then I heard dad shouting at him. That same crap he always shouted about being useless and weak…” When Jefferson squeezes his hand again he realizes it’s shaking. “I ran in and got there just in time to see him backhand Aiden so hard I thought his neck was gonna snap. He h-hit his head on the corner of the counter and just…fell.” 

It had seemed so unfinished, and yet so final. Like that couldn’t be it, and yet it had been. One hit. One impact. Gone.

Jefferson whispers something against his shoulder that he doesn’t understand. He’s too caught up in the memory he’s been running from for so long: the hard snap of his father’s hand against Aiden’s cheek, the loud thwack of the boy’s head against the counter, and then the soft thud of Aiden’s body hitting the floor, shattered glass crunching and tinkling where he landed on it or made it skitter across the tiles. 

“He didn’t even make any noise,” Brock whispers. He feels wetness escape onto his cheek, but Jefferson kisses it away before he can even raise a hand. “I drove him to the hospital because my dad wouldn’t let me call an ambulance, but by the time he got any help he was already in a coma…there wasn’t anything they could do for him. He was dead within h-half an hour.” Brock closes his eyes, rubbing at them, trying to soothe the burn of tears. But it doesn’t get rid of the image of Aiden lying on that slab, pale, his fingers cold and limp when Brock had tried to take hold of them. He’d looked so tiny with that giant bruise on his forehead… 

His chest tightens and he pushes himself up, gasping for breath. Pressure behind his eyes isn’t getting any better, no matter how hard he rubs at them trying to get them to dry. 

He’s going to be sick.

Jefferson’s gasps in shock when Brock yanks away, but doesn’t hesitate to follow him into the bathroom, crouching down next to Brock as he wretches over the toilet, whispering soft, unintelligible words of comfort. 

“Shh, it’s ok,” he whispers, laying a cool cheek against Brock’s heated back. Brock hears a catch in Jefferson’s voice too, followed by warm wet dripping onto his skin as arms slide around his body. Jefferson’s crying for him, what else should he have expected? He covers Jefferson’s hands with his own as he slumps down, shaking from head to toe as his gasping turns to sobbing, ugly and rough and half choked down by his own pride, but escaping nonetheless. Jefferson holds him, breath steady against the back of Brock’s neck. Grounding.

How long has it been since he cried like this? Has it been since that day…? Probably, but he can’t recall. He let himself cry then, when the shock was fresh, but had hardened himself so soon afterwards…

When he can finally see from behind the wall of blurry wetness, he sees the tears slide down his nose and cheeks. An airiness begins to fill his head and chest as his breaths start to even, like each of those trickles is dragging a little of the weight out of him. Maybe that’s why people let themselves cry… 

Jefferson’s still at his side, still murmuring to him. “It’s ok,” he whispers. “I’m so, so sorry, but it’s ok now, I promise.”

Brock shakes his head, refusing to open his eyes. “That’s not everything…” he forces out. He needs to know it all. “And it’s n-not ok.”

“What is it, sweetheart?” Jefferson prompts, unsuspecting. His hands slide up Brock’s chest, pressing closer. “You can tell me.”

Brock grits his teeth. “It’s about my dad.”

“Please don’t say he got away with it…”

“No.” Brock laughs dryly, biting down hard on his lip. “I didn’t let him.” He turns to face Jefferson and it only takes a moment before the omega’s eyes go wide. 

“Oh god…”

Brock’s apologetic smile turns into a grimace before he shuts his eyes again. “I waited to go home until late, until I was sure he’d be passed out. He always was by ten.” He takes in a deep breath, leaning away from Jefferson a little. Surely if he doesn’t do it first, Jefferson will do it for him later. “I got his gun and shot him while he was in bed. Point-blank, back of the head.” Again, it had only been one. And again, it hadn’t seemed like enough. But four more pulls of the trigger hadn’t felt any more satisfying.

Brock doesn’t expect Jefferson’s arms to wrap around him once again. He doesn’t expect hands petting his hair or lips kissing his brow. And he definitely doesn’t expect for his body to melt into Jefferson’s of its own accord, a wave of something indescribable rolling through him, choking him and pushing more tears out of his eyes. Jefferson’s shushing him gently, rocking him as best he can. 

“I should be glad about it,” Brock grunts. “Bastard deserved what he got.”

“Yeah, he did,” Jefferson murmurs. “But he’s still your dad.”

“He never acted like it…”

“But he was still your dad,” Jefferson repeats, pressing another kiss to Brock’s forehead. “It’s ok to be upset.” Brock shakes his head, but his face is still hot and tight and he doesn’t want to argue. Jefferson holds him quietly, rubbing his back slowly until Brock feels his breath become less choppy, less uncomfortable. “So what happened to you, after all that?”

“Waited for someone to call the police about the gunshots. They showed up soon enough and I didn’t bother lying.” He huffs weakly, shrugging. “This lawyer they got me, he spun it like I was some emotionally compromised child who didn’t know what I was doing. Got me to say it in front of the judge.” He rolls his eyes. “Apparently I put on a good show because they decided to just send me to juvy for a couple years until I turned eighteen. Soon as I got out, I joined the army. Had to fight for it too, since I had a record.”

“Brock…”

He looks up at Jefferson and raises an eyebrow. “What?”

Jefferson sighs softly. “You’d just watched your father kill your little brother, I’d say ‘emotionally compromised’ is at the very least an understatement.”

“God, don’t try to shrink me,” Brock groans, but doesn’t pull away. He does straighten up though, slipping an arm around Jefferson’s waist.

“I’m not,” Jefferson sighs.

“I knew what I was doing,” Brock mutters. “I wasn’t out of my mind or anything like that.”

“Ok.” He sighs heavily and there’s a moment of silence before he brushes a kiss against Brock’s temple, and Brock feels some of the tension drain out of him when their heads rest together. Jefferson’s petting his hair again, humming softly. He does that sometimes, usually when he’s caught up working on something. It makes him smile and he tips his head for a kiss.

He’s met with fingers pressed over his mouth and a funny little smile curling on Jefferson’s lips. “Now you’re the one who needs to clean up.”

“Right, sorry…”

Brock gets up, splashing water on his face and running damp hands through his hair before starting to brush his teeth, scrubbing the bitter tang of bile off his tongue. Jefferson perches on the counter, smiling at him with pale grey eyes as he leans back against the wall. 

“Forgot how gross crying makes you feel,” Brock mutters, rubbing at his still swollen eyes as he straightens up. 

“Makes it better in the long run though,” Jefferson sighs, reaching out to run his hand down Brock’s arm, soft fingers bumping over his scars. Brock sucks in a deep breath as a dull shiver runs through him.

“I guess,” he shrugs, rolling his neck before smiling at Jefferson. “Can I have that kiss now?”

Jefferson laughs softly and doesn’t have to say a word, just tugs Brock closer and cups his face for a soft kiss that only needs to last for a preciously short moment.

“Um, Brock?” he asks hesitantly as he pulls away. Brock frowns.

“Yeah, baby?” Jefferson shrugs and his eyes dart away.

“What you said—don’t try and shrink me—” he sighs. “I’m not gonna but…have you ever, you know, talked to someone about this?”

“They made me see somebody while I was locked up,” Brock shrugs. Doctors barely older than him with white coats and condescending smiles…he’d wanted to throw things every time they looked at him. “Then again after I got injured. Never really followed through beyond what I was forced into though.”

Jefferson sighs a little, resting his cheek on Brock’s shoulder. “Look, it’s not that I don’t get hating doctors. I do too. But I think you should try seeing somebody, on your own terms, might help more than somebody else making you.”

The idea makes Brock stomach turn. “I’ll think about it,” he mutters, offhand. Jefferson doesn’t press the issue, nodding before kissing Brock’s cheek again.

“Thank you,” he murmurs. “I know it’s hard, but I’m glad you talked to me about this. Thank you for trusting me.”

“‘Course I trust you.” There’s probably not a more trustworthy person on the planet. “I mean, you trusted me with an awful lot right off the bat; it’s about time I started returning the favor.”

“Stop that.” Jefferson covers Brock’s mouth with his hand. “You don’t owe me your life story…” Brock shakes his head, kissing Jefferson’s fingers lightly, and nosing them out of his way.

“But if we’re dating,” he smiles. “I do owe you some reciprocity.” Jefferson just rolls his eyes, and Brock steals a kiss from those pretty lips. “And I do owe you a date.” 

Jefferson blushes bright pink, and his hand flutters up to tuck his hair back behind his ear. Brock can’t help but grin. 

“I wanna do right by you, baby,” he murmurs. His jacket’s slipped down from Jefferson’s shoulder and Brock runs the back of his fingers over the exposed skin, light as possible. Jefferson shivers, but leans into the touch. “I’ve been trying.”

“I know you have,” Jefferson sighs, taking Brock’s hand in his own and kissing it lightly. “And it’s been perfect.”

“Something else perfect…” Brock grins. “Next Sunday is Valentine’s Day, right? That makes sense for a date.”

Jefferson looks a little shocked. “Next Sunday…is it really?”

“Yeah,” Brock shrugs, looking down. “That day’s, uh, also my birthday, so…” 

Jefferson gives a little giggle and when Brock looks up he sees him covering his mouth, looking back with sparkling eyes. “You’re joking.”

Brock rolls his eyes. “I know, I know, a guy like me born on Valentine’s day, it’s—”

“No, no that’s not what I meant.” 

Those eyes are sparkling a little too much now, and Brock’s smile falls instantly. “What’s wrong? What did I miss?”

“Nothing bad, I promise,” Jefferson quickly intervenes, smiling softly. “It’s just something silly…”

“It’s enough to get you tearing up.”

“Brock.” The soft admonition shuts him right up, and he nods encouragingly. Jefferson sighs softly, and a smile curls into his cheeks. “It’s just…for the past few years I’ve been sort of…making that day special in my own way.”

“How do you mean?”

“There’s this garden in the park,” Jefferson murmurs. “It looks so pretty, even while it’s still winter, but it’s almost always empty. I would always go there, spend a couple hours, and…” His teeth graze his lip. “And I’d think about how I could’ve taken my baby there if I’d had her. She would’ve been born in February so I guess I just—”

He breaks off, biting down harder on his lip, but Brock doesn’t hesitate to take Jefferson’s face in his hands, kissing his forehead gently as there’s a little hitch in Jefferson’s breath. “Come on, we’ve done enough of that today,” he murmurs, catching a tear on his thumb when it smudges through Jefferson’s eyelashes.

Jefferson’s laugh comes out broken and when he wipes his eyes, Brock drops his hands to the omega’s waist, pulling him a little closer. “I didn’t realize how much it meant to me,” he sighs. 

“Of course it means a lot.” It’s still a shock to him, how much Jefferson loves this child he never got a chance to have. There’s a memory from a few weeks ago, of finding a tiny pair of pink baby’s socks at the bottom of the basket where Jefferson keeps his knitting is still very present in his mind. “We can go there, to that garden, next Sunday, if it’ll make you happy.”

Jefferson nods a little. “I-I do want to go on a date with you. A real date, like a normal couple.”

“But?”

“But it would mean a lot if you’d go with me.” It’s barely a whisper, but Jefferson’s smiling, toying with the hem of Brock’s shirt. “Maybe you could tell me some stories about your brother. Some happy ones.”

“I’d like that,” Brock nods. “And I’d like to go to the aquarium with you.” 

That’s enough to earn a real laugh out of Jefferson. “I’d like that too,” he smiles. “I’ve never been to one before.”

“Then we’ll be fixing that next week,” Brock chuckles. He strokes Jefferson’s cheek gently, something pleasant welling up in his chest when Jefferson leans into the touch. He's so goddamn lucky. “For now…how about a movie or something?”

Jefferson lets out a contented sigh, wrapping his arms around Brock’s neck. “Sounds great.”

Brock grins, kissing Jefferson deeply as he scoops him up, making the omega squeak in surprise. They both laugh and Brock finds himself a little breathless with Jefferson’s bright eyes so close.

“You make me really happy.”

The quiet words wash over Brock, warm and sweet, bringing a smile to his face.

“Well you know you make me happy, beautiful.”

Jefferson giggles and hides his face in Brock’s shoulder, the blush on his cheeks warming Brock’s skin the whole way to the couch.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so SO sorry this chapter is late. It fought me for the first few days and I'm still not entirely sure how I feel about all of it. I'd love to get some feedback! Much love to you readers~

Their morning is slow and easy when the next Sunday rolls around. For the first time, Jefferson’s the one to coax Brock awake, laying little pecks on his chest that soon enough turn into soft kisses shared between them, coupled with Jefferson’s hair tickling Brock’s cheeks. He’s been growing it out, and Brock adores being able to take a nice handful of those curls, wrapping them around his fingers just tight enough to set Jefferson purring in his arms.

With great effort, they drag themselves out of bed, and Jefferson takes his time fussing over what to wear, painstakingly applying a shimmer to his eyelids and a red gloss to his lips. And if that isn’t one of the most mesmerizing sights Brock’s ever laid eyes on… Full lips slowly turning to deeper and richer shades as Jefferson so carefully caresses them with a soft brush. He could watch all damn day, but it’s not long before Jefferson catches his eye in the mirror, a grin curling on the omega’s face as Brock’s eyes dart away, as if the plain ceiling is suddenly fascinating.

“Enjoying the view?”

Brock snorts, rubbing at the back of his neck. “Every inch of it.”

Jefferson blushes pale and pretty, though he does raise an eyebrow as he looks up and down Brock’s familiar black ensemble. He says nothing, however; not until Brock’s waiting by the front door, and, out of nowhere, Jefferson takes the opportunity to loop a deep red scarf around the alpha’s neck, using it as leverage to bring him in for a kiss.

“A little color for your birthday,” he murmurs. 

Brock’s impressed that he even manages a verbal thank you, considering how completely fixated he is on the fact that Jefferson’s vivid lips taste like strawberry today. It’s all he can do not to dive back for more…

But he’s pretty sure Jefferson wouldn’t take kindly to having him ruin that satiny color with the messy kisses he’s dying to lay across the omega’s lips and neck. 

The air is chilly around them as they walk, but not unpleasant; a few flakes of the powdery snow waft up on the breeze and catch Brock’s attention when they land amongst Jefferson curls and eyelashes. Their conversation is idle and, as Brock had expected, the closer they get to the park, the more it falls away. By the time they reach their destination, it’s silent between them, Jefferson tucked close against him.

It’s a garden labyrinth that Jefferson’s brought them to, carefully laid stones spiralling through a sparsely flowered clearing with a vine-wrapped fountain at the center. Beautiful, and quiet aside from the sound of the water and the singing of a few birds who’ve decided to brave the morning frost. 

He doesn’t belong here. 

Brock swallows thickly around that sudden feeling rising in his throat. A feeling that only weighs heavier upon as they start to walk the pebbled path, drawing further into the clearing.

He doesn’t deserve to be here and each shaky step seems more and more like an intrusion on something sacred as Brock watches Jefferson’s eyes glaze with a far away look as a frown furrows his brow, lost in something Brock can’t hope to understand. 

More than once, he opens his mouth to say…something. That he shouldn’t be here, perhaps? That he should wait somewhere else? That he’s trespassing in something private and beautiful and meaningful… 

But the words never come, and Jefferson’s arms twined around his own insist that he does belong, that he’s not going anywhere… 

That he’s wanted. 

The thought catches in his chest, making his breath stutter. They’re walking in step with each other now, the dry snow and stony ground crunching under their feet. Jefferson’s cheek is against his shoulder, and he can feel the omega humming that melody he’s so fond of. The one that’s started to become so familiar that Brock might just mistake it for a childhood memory of his own. Soft and steady, matching their slow pace as they move round and round through the winding path. Even Brock’s uncertain breaths grow steadier as Jefferson’s calm bleeds into him.

He’s wanted here.

Warm, gentle, and welcoming, Jefferson seals the moment with a kiss when they reach the center of the clearing, cupping Brock’s face in his softly gloved hands. 

“Thank you for coming with me,” he whispers, almost quiet enough for the babbling fountain to drown him out. Brock nods, watching Jefferson’s eyelashes flutter as he blinks away a dampness that isn’t caused by cool wind. 

“Thank you for letting me,” is the only reply he can muster. It earns him a smile, and a peek at Jefferson’s dimples, but still with those glistening eyes… He pulls Jefferson in closer, holding him tight and soon they’re holding each other, breathing deep, eyes slipped shut. Brock nuzzles closer, nudging Jefferson’s scarf out of the way so his lips can connect with delicate skin, his lungs filling with only Jefferson’s scent as he cradles him. Jefferson murmurs another thank you, and, though Brock isn’t sure why this time, he holds Jefferson tighter all the same. 

It’s Jefferson who pulls away first, letting out a long, slow breath, something like a sound of relief. “Ok,” he murmurs. “Onto something a little more exciting.”

“I-If you’re sure,” Brock nods. He’d been expecting…more, quite frankly. “We can stay as long as you need, you know.”

“No, this is enough,” Jefferson sighs. There’s something unreadable twinkling in his eyes. It makes Brock’s stomach flutter. “Just a little remembrance, I don’t want to wallow in the past.” A smile curls on those pretty red lips. “Not when my present is looking so wonderful.”

Brock laughs softly, his gaze averting. “Whatever makes you happy.”

Hands grasp his own. “You make me happy.”

“So you keep telling me.”

“And I’ll be even happier when you start believing it.”

******

Just as Jefferson had gotten more quiet and more melancholy as they walked towards the center of the labyrinth, as they walk away, he brightens like a sunrise. His smiles grow wider, more constant, and he’s no longer pressing himself into Brock’s side, instead choosing to swing their clasped hands between them. Brock’s too caught up in the light coming from those smiles to care, even if he’s not usually one for things like hand-swinging. It’s Jefferson and it’s adorable, he can let it slide.

“Oh look, you’ve got a little doppelgänger,” Jefferson giggles, and Brock rolls his eyes when Jefferson’s pointing leads him to an absolutely tiny bird hopping on the ground nearby, sporting an even tinier black crest on its head.

“You’re funny,” he drawls, but doesn’t bother fighting a smile when Jefferson laughs again.

“And I’m also not wrong,” he teases back. He looks like he’s about to say something else, but then his gaze suddenly darts over Brock’s shoulder, and all that comes out is a soft “Oh…”

A frown ready on his face, Brock turns, and his gaze falls on none other than Jack, who seems to be stretching, preparing for a run. All three of them go still as soon as Jack glances up and makes eye contact with Brock, who grimaces at the wave of displeasure rolling through him.

“Brock?” Jefferson’s hand tightens on his, just for a moment, before stroking his palm gently. “It’s alright…”

“Let’s get out of here,” Brock says, tense, his eyes never leaving Jack. 

“No.”

That finally draws Brock’s attention. “What?”

“Go talk to him,” Jefferson insists. “It’s been weeks.”

“For good reason.” He glances at Jack again. The other alpha hasn’t moved, much to Brock’s annoyance. “You don’t know what he said about you.”

“I don’t care,” Jefferson huffs, nudging Brock in Jack’s direction. Brock scoffs. If he knew, he’d care. “He’s your friend, stop being stubborn.”

Brock frowns and tries to protest, but Jefferson just nudges at him again, a resolute pout settling on his lips. He’ll be annoyed for the rest of the day if Brock tries to argue. It’s not worth the trouble. Shoving his hands into his pockets, he reluctantly pulls away and starts walking towards Jack, who, for his part, visibly inflates with a deep breath and sets his jaw, determinedly staring at something on the ground off to his left. 

“Fancy seeing you here,” he mutters as soon as Brock’s within earshot. 

Brock grunts something noncommittal, biting down on his tongue as Jack continues to avoid looking at him.

“He sent you over here, huh?”

“He doesn’t like that we’re fighting,” Brock sighs, glancing over his shoulder at Jefferson, who nods to him encouragingly. 

“How cute,” Jack grumbles, his eyes only for the toe of his shoe as it digs into the grass. 

“I’m over here as a courtesy, Jack. For his sake only. If you don’t have anything good to say to me, then we’ll be on our way.”

“And what exactly do you want to hear me say?”

“Maybe something like an apology for being a complete fucking asshole to someone I care about?” Brock snaps.

“What, punching me in the face wasn’t enough?” Jack mutters, petulant, the scar on his chin twisting as he scowls. 

“You got exactly what was coming to you and you know it,” Brock hisses. Jack’s jaw tenses again, but his shoulders hunch. A flash of humility, and a far cry from the posturing he’d been doing that night at the bar. Brock’s voice gets lower as he plants himself firmly. “Look, I’m not enjoying any of this either, but I mean it. If you’re just gonna do the stoic, silent bullshit, then I’m not gonna waste my breath.”

And then he waits, silent, but still all he’s looking at is the side of Jack’s face. It only takes about half a minute before he’s positive that Jack’s got nothing to say to him that’s worth hearing. “So be it.” He turns on his heel. 

“You guys look really happy.”

Now he speaks. The words are scathing in Brock’s mind, but he stops himself from blurting them out. He slowly turns back around, eyebrow cocked and ready for the disdain he’s sure he’s about to be met with. Much to his surprise, however, Jack’s still got his shoe dug into the grass, fidgeting, and looking about as small as a six-foot-two man can look.

“What?”

“Just sayin’, you look happy with him,” Jack shrugs. “And he looks happy with you.” 

It’s a shift he’s not expecting, and Brock’s stuck blinking dumbly for a few seconds. When he finds his voice, it’s only by dropping his gaze as well, though his shoulder stay squared, not giving an inch. “We are happy.” 

“Good for you.” Brock’s more struck by how genuine the words sound than anything else. It’s enough to make him glance up again. 

“Beg your pardon?”

Jack’s looking back and just shrugs again. “Not a lot of people are. Happy, that is. So good for you, I guess.” 

“Thanks?” They’re both out of their depth here, Brock’s willingly to offer a little leeway.

Jack clears his throat awkwardly. “And, you know, I-I shouldn’t’ve said what I did about him if… if he makes you happy. ”

Not that much leeway. “You shouldn’t’ve said it, period.” 

“I know,” Jack winces, the words grinding out harshly through his teeth. “I’m…’m sorry, ok? And I’m sorry for doing that alpha thing and freaking him out.”

Brock nods, shifting his feet as a breeze rolls between them, and letting out a sigh. “You willing to say that to him?” he asks. 

By the look on Jack’s face, it’s the last thing he wants to do, but he does nod. “If you bring him over here, yeah.”

Brock glances over his shoulder and waves Jefferson towards them. The omega comes with unsure steps, shyly keeping his eyes lowered as he nestles himself into Brock’s side.

“Jack’s got something he wants to say to you.”

Jefferson’s lips part in what might be an attempt at speaking, but no sound comes out. When Brock nods to him, smiling slightly, he glances up at Jack, who’s having just as hard a time keeping eye contact.

“Sorry for freaking you out,” he mutters in a rush of breath. “I’m…not a huge fan of sharing my friends. I was being a dick on purpose.” He’s continuing to abuse that same patch of grass, kicking at it halfheartedly, but Brock can’t help noticing that Jefferson’s already got the ghost of a smile on his lips. Ready to forgive. “Won’t be doing it again.”

Jefferson nods slowly, that ghost of a smile broadening. “Thank you,” he murmurs. “I know that’s not an easy thing to say.” Brock can’t even bring himself to be surprised when the omega’s soft voice actually draws a little smile out of Jack. Jefferson’s got that sort of magic, anyone would adore him.

It’s quiet again, but when Jack makes eye contact with Brock, it doesn’t take long before they’re both fully grinning again. 

“Look, I know you’re all squishy now, but don’t make me hug to ‘make up’,” Jack smirks. 

“Don’t worry, I know where that boundary is,” Brock chuckles, and Jefferson’s quick to nod in agreement, giggling softly.

“Good,” Jack nods. “‘Sides, I wouldn’t want to break you now that you’re officially old.”

Brock snorts. “Hey, you’ve only got a few more months before you are too.”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t remind me,” Jack chuckles, then nods towards Jefferson. “But not you, huh? Tasha told me you’re young.”

Jefferson flushes at being addressed again, pressing closer to Brock’s side but smiling nonetheless. “Yeah, I’m only twenty-two.”

Jack raises an eyebrow, his gaze sliding over to Brock. “Cradle-robber.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Brock groans, but soon breaks into a laugh that Jack and Jefferson join him in. “Fuck, aren’t there any better jokes than that one?”

“I’ll have to work on finding a few,” Jack chuckles. “I’m guessing the two of you have plans for today?”

“Yeah,” Brock nods. “But I’ll catch you at the bar tomorrow, alright?”

“Sounds good to me,” Jack nods, a hint of teasing coming into his voice as a smirk curls on his face. “You enjoy your day with your valentine.”

“I will hit you again,” Brock warns, chuckling when Jefferson makes a little sound of displeasure and nudges his side. “Hey, I don’t mean it…”

“Whatever you say,” Jack laughs. “Now how about I get out of here before you guys give me a fucking cavity.”

Brock rolls his eyes. “Seriously, you’re inviting another punch.”

Jack just winks, grinning as he turns to jog into the park. Brock shakes his head, pressing a kiss to Jefferson’s forehead. 

“Well that could’ve been a lot more dramatic…”

“I’m glad it wasn’t,” Jefferson sighs. “He’s less scary than I remembered.”

“Yeah, he’s good at making himself look a whole lot more intimidating than he really is,” Brock chuckles. “Had me fooled at first, until I had an actual conversation with him and realized he was just awkward and settled for scaring people away because he had no idea how to talk to anyone.”

“Oh god,” Jefferson laughs softly. “That’s almost…sweet.”

“Don’t let him hear you say that,” Brock grins. “He’s weird about being called anything like sweet.” He has to pause, shrugging slightly. “Self-conscious, I guess.”

Jefferson nods, sighing softly. “Not like I don’t understand.” There’s a tinge of sadness in his tone that draws Brock closer, hoping to kiss those pretty lips back into a smile, but Jefferson beats him to the punch, stealing a kiss from Brock’s lips with a quick tilt of his head. They’re both grinning as they start to walk together. 

“Can I ask you something?” Jefferson murmurs after a moment.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t you be able to?”

“Well it’s something pretty personal…”

Brock frowns a little as he glances over at Jefferson. “Considering some of the other things I’ve shared with you recently, I think I can handle it.”

Pink dances on Jefferson’s cheekbones as he glances away. “It’s about Jack…” he hesitates a moment. “We you and he ever…?”

Brock waits, but when Jefferson just trails off again, he shrugs. “Were he and I ever what?”

“You know…” Jefferson sighs. “Intimate.”

“Oh.” Brock blinks in surprise, but he’s not about to lie. “Uh, yeah, here and there while we were in the army,” he shrugs. “It wasn’t a relationship, just kinda…stress relief, I guess.” For them, a few minutes of rutting together hadn’t been much different from throwing a few punches; just different means to the same end. They’d never been cuddly or sweet. Brock could only recall one shared kiss, and he could recall just as clearly how Jack’s nose had wrinkled at the soft touch. “Kids fucking around. We haven’t done anything like that in years.” 

Jefferson nods. “I thought so.”

“What made you think so?”

“Can’t really say,” he shrugs. “Just a feeling.”

“One hell of a feeling,” Brock chuckles. “That’s not weird for you, right?”

“What? The fact that you and your best friend used to fuck around while you were kids in the army? ” 

Brock laughs at how crass it sounds, even coming from Jefferson. Especially coming from Jefferson. “Yeah, that.”

Jefferson smiles, shaking his head as his hand slides down to grasp Brock’s gently. “Not at all. I trust you.”

“Glad to hear it,” Brock smiles back, squeezing Jefferson’s hand in return. 

“Can I ask you something else?”

“Shoot.”

“Is there a story behind that scar he’s got?”

Brock can’t help but break into a laugh. The inevitable question… “Yeah, but it’s not the harrowing war story you might be expecting.” 

“Oh?”

Brock nods. “He busted his face open when he was ten, messing around on a skateboard.”

Jefferson’s eyes go wide and he covers his mouth before dissolving into giggles. “Well you’re right…that’s not what I was expecting.” he manages, wincing slightly. “I’m sorry, it’s not funny…it’s just—”

“Not what you were expecting,” Brock repeats, smirking. “It’s not what anybody was expecting. Once the other guys in the army realized he and I were friends, they’d always ask me about the scar and I just started making things up to see what people would believe. Jack thought it was hilarious so he never contradicted any of it, no matter how crazy it got.”

“Why am I not surprised?” Jefferson grins, resting his cheek on Brock’s shoulder. “So, maybe now that your friends all like me…we can hang out with them more?”

“Maybe,” Brock nods. “Jack might take some convincing, but I know Natasha would love to see more of you. She thinks you’re adorable.”

“Mhm, she’s told me herself.” When Brock sends him a confused look, Jefferson just smiles. “We’ve been texting. She put her number in my phone while I was a blubbering mess in the bathroom and you were off punching Jack in the face.” 

“Of course she did.” Really, he should expect no less. “So do you two gossip about me?”

“Oh yeah,” Jefferson purrs, every syllable dripping with sarcasm. “All the time.” The facade only lasts a few seconds, however, before he’s grinning and shaking his head. “Actually she invited me out for dinner with her and Maria on Wednesday. I said I’d go, since you’ve got an earlier shift that day and I’d miss you anyway.” Suddenly, there’s a shyness in his eyes. “That’s ok, right?”

Brock’s sigh is pained as he stops them both, taking Jefferson’s face in his hands and kissing him firmly enough to inspire a dreamy haze over Jefferson’s eyes when he pulls back. “Yeah, it’s ok,” he murmurs. “You don’t have to ask my permission for that, beautiful.”

Jefferson’s cheeks are almost rivaling his painted lips now, but he nods. “Ok.” Then, in a flash, his dimples and crooked front teeth make an appearance as his thumb wipes gently at Brock’s mouth. “You like kissing me too much, it’s starting to show.”

Brock frowns until Jefferson pulls his thumb back, sporting a shiny red smear. Then all he can do is laugh. “Christ, and we both know Jack saw and didn’t say a damn thing.”

“He’ll probably give you shit for it tomorrow when it’s just the two of you, huh?” Jefferson grins.

“Probably.”

“At least it’s a good color on you.”

“Somehow I doubt that,” Brock snorts, but Jefferson just rolls his eyes. 

“Not like you’d know one way or another,” he smiles, then tugs on Brock’s arm with a good-humored pout. “Now come on, I don’t want to spend all day here.”

“Alright, alright, we’re going,” Brock laughs, grinning when Jefferson starts swinging their clasped hands again as the walk.

******

He can’t recall ever seeing Jefferson excited like this. 

The omega’s vibrating with energy, smiling so much his cheeks must be starting to ache a little. Brock knows his are, and he’s only watching Jefferson dart from exhibit to exhibit, lighting up and cooing over every new find.

It’s silly.

Of course it is.

That’s what makes it really fucking great.

“Brock, look!” 

Jefferson’s excited voice snaps Brock out of his daydreaming, focusing his attention on…well, whatever Jefferson’s pointing to. “What am I looking at?”

“Seahorses,” Jefferson sighs, pressing his finger more insistently against the glass. “Tiny ones, look.”

“All I’m seeing is grass…”

“Yeah, they’re in the grass,” Jefferson laughs. Brock sighs, squinting as he leans in closer. Sure enough, his eyes just barely manage to focus in on miniscule, pinkish curls wrapped around the tendrils of grass. 

“Holy shit those things are small.”

“Aren’t they pretty?” Jefferson giggles. “They look like little flowers.”

“I’ll have to take your word for it since I can barely see them,” Brock shakes his head. “Do you have microscope lenses for eyes or something?” Eyes which are glowing a turquoise color in the watery light as they glint with amusement.

“If you say so,” he purrs, close enough that Brock can feel the omega’s breath against his lips. Brock wants so badly to kiss those lips, but before he gets the chance, Jefferson’s noticed something new and is off again. 

They’re far from the only couple here, though most everyone else is wrangling children. More than once, Brock almost gets his knees taken out by a toddler barreling past him, usually followed by a very apologetic parent. He can’t really bring himself to be annoyed though, since he can remember his little brother being the same way, constantly running off to find the next great thing. Much like Jefferson is now.

Brock takes it in stride, because Jefferson’s still holding fast to his hand and beaming at him every time he finds time to pause. And Brock takes every opportunity to wrap his arms around Jefferson’s waist, holding him close against his chest as he admires those big eyes, full of wonder for everything around them.

“Do we really have to walk through that?”

Brock shrugs slightly as he glances down the glass tunnel in front of them, the whole of it tinted blue by the water, with colorful fish swim along the sides and overhead. “Yeah, why wouldn’t we?” he shrugs, beginning to walk forward.

He’s pulled back, however, when Jefferson stays rooted to the floor, gripping his hand tightly as he begins to worry his lip between his teeth. “That doesn’t freak you out?”

“No?” Brock frowns slightly. “It’s a tunnel.”

“But it’s got…” Jefferson trails off, huffing slightly. “I-I can’t swim…”

“Well, that’s why all the water’s behind glass—”

“No, that’s not—” Jefferson huffs again. “Don’t make fun of me.” 

“Baby, I’m not,” Brock sighs softly, taking both of Jefferson’s hands in his own. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t like being underwater…”

“Because you can’t swim,” Brock nods, glancing down the tunnel again. At the very least, he can see where Jefferson’s coming from. “Well, you’re not gonna be underwater. Just…beneath water, and glass. There’s a difference.” Jefferson rolls his eyes, but does smile. Brock grins, slipping his arm around Jefferson’s waist. “Come on, I’ll be with you the whole time.”

“My hero,” Jefferson snickers, and now Brock’s the one to roll his eyes. But Jefferson doesn’t pull back this time when Brock leads him forward. In fact, he presses closer and lets out a shivery sigh as soon as they enter the tunnel. “Oh wow…”

“See? It’s not so bad,” Brock smiles. 

“It’s beautiful,” Jefferson murmurs. “Don’t you think so?”

“I think you’re beautiful.” The words are out before he can stop them, but the glowing flush on Jefferson’s face is worth any embarrassment at having his mouth work faster than his brain.

“You’re such a sweetheart,” Jefferson smiles, then suddenly flinches with a gasp when a rather large stingray decides to swoop up along the side of the tunnel, taking up residence on the arched ceiling.

“It’s alright,” Brock chuckles, slipping bother his arms around Jefferson to hold him close. The omega looks back at him with wide eyes, mouth open in shock.

“I didn’t think they got that big…”

“They can get bigger than that,” Brock chuckles, more at how Jefferson’s eyes get somehow even bigger as sucks in a little breath of surprise when the stingray shimmies down back onto the side of the tunnel, flapping its fins at them. “I think they’re kinda cute.”

Jefferson glances at him, and the smirk on his face tells Brock exactly what’s coming. “I think you’re kinda cute.”

“I am kinda cute,” he grins, and Jefferson’s giggling in seconds, nuzzling Brock’s cheek with the tip of his nose.

“He’s an omega…”

Brock here’s the whisper from somewhere over his left shoulder and whips around instantly, making eye contact with a couple staring back at them. 

“Can I help you?” the man of the pair, an alpha, snaps, in the same voice that Brock heard whisper.

“I don’t know, since you seem to be the one with the problem,” Brock mutters, looking the alpha up and down. Nothing he couldn’t handle, he thinks to himself, puffing out his chest a little. 

“Brock, what’s going on?” Jefferson murmurs.

“This guy decided he had something to say about you,” Brock sighs, still staring the other man down. 

“Just don’t know why you’d pick one of those when there are so many normal omega’s to choose from,” he shrugs. Brock’s eyes narrow dangerously.

“We didn’t ask for your fucking opinion,” he growls low in his throat. “Are you that full of yourself?”

The other alpha grimaces, but his mate grabs his arm soon enough, distracting him.

“Honey, it’s not worth it,” she murmurs. The man looks like he wants to argue, but the woman flashes a warning look and he’s tempered fairly quickly.

“Fine, let’s go,” he mutters, storming off. The woman sighs, glancing over at Brock and Jefferson as she readjusts the sleeping child on her hip, and mouthing a quick ‘sorry’ before following her mate. 

Brock shakes his head, kissing Jefferson’s hair as he hugs him tightly. “You ok?”

“Yeah,” Jefferson sighs, turning so he can rest his head against Brock’s shoulder. “I feel more sorry for her, being mated to a prick like that.”

Brock chuckles, nuzzling into Jefferson’s hair to give another kiss. “Good, ‘cause you’re fucking perfect.”

“Not too many people agree with you,” Jefferson shrugs. Brock sighs, rubbing Jefferson’s back gently.

“Then way too many people are wrong.” 

Jefferson sighs softly, pressing closer into his arms. “Thank you.” Brock smiles, his fingers wandering up to glide through Jefferson’s curls.

“Ready for the next big thing?” he murmurs.

“More than ready.”

The next big thing, as it turns out, is Jefferson discovering that he’s actually allowed to pet the baby sharks. For a few seconds, Brock’s actually concerned the omega might explode with excitement, from how he coos and squeals when the little sharks wiggle and brush up against his fingers. If only it weren’t so familiar a sight…

“Aren’t you gonna try?” Jefferson grins as he dries off his hand, looking up at Brock expectantly. Brock shrugs and shakes his head as he tucks his balled up fists further into his pocket.

“I don’t think so,” he mutters, wincing at the disappointment that flutters across Jefferson’s face.

“You could use your left hand if you don’t want to roll up the sleeve on your right,” he whispers, leaning closer so the words only pass between the two of them.

“I know. It’s not that.” 

Jefferson nods, his eyes flicking back and forth to silent search Brock’s face for an answer. Brock sighs heavily.

“Aiden used to be nervous about doing stuff like this,” he murmurs. “I always had to kind of…hold his hand and show him it was ok.” The words drag out, with much more difficulty than he was expecting. “I guess it’s just hitting me harder than I thought it would.”

Before he knows it, Jefferson’s gentle hand is stroking his cheek, coaxing him to turn his head so sweet lips can meet his own. It’s brief and chaste—they are still in public after all—but it does settle a little seed of warmth in Brock’s chest.

“How about we find somewhere to sit down?” Jefferson asks softly against his lips. Brock can only nod. He’s aching to hold Jefferson right now, the way he always does when they’re at home, with the omega curled up in his lap, body warm and soft against his own.

They find a seating area in the darkened room looking in on a massive tank, swirling with fish and sharks and even a few turtles floating peacefully near the surface. Brock finds a seat at the back of the room where he can lean against the wall, pulling Jefferson down onto his lap.

“Should we really do this in public?” Jefferson murmurs, though he doesn’t hesitate to make himself comfortable. 

“Nobody’s gonna be paying us any attention back here,” Brock shrugs. “Anyway, you’re just on my lap, what’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing at all.” Jefferson’s hand is gliding through his hair, soothing. He leans into the touch.

“Sorry to ruin your fun.”

“If you’re not having just as much fun as I am, it’s not really worth it,” Jefferson sighs. “Besides, what’s not to like about this view?”

He’s referring to the tank in front of them, considering how his gaze wanders through the water, but Brock only has eyes for him, and how fucking pretty he is in the blue light. “It is pretty great,” he murmurs. When Jefferson finds him staring, he just smiles, and the omega rolls his eyes.

“Don’t you ever get tired of that schtick?” 

“Not really,” Brock chuckles, kissing Jefferson’s cheek, which is warm from blushing. Jefferson just sighs heavily, resting his head on Brock’s shoulder. It’s peaceful between them, even with the occasional child’s shriek or laugh punctuating the quiet, and making Jefferson giggle. 

“You know, you kind of remind me of a shark,” he murmurs after a long while.

“Yeah?” Brock chuckles.

“Yeah.” Jefferson shifts, his nose nuzzling Brock’s throat. “One of those really big aggressive ones, like a tiger shark.”

“I like the sound of that,” Brock smirks, laughing at himself under his breath. “I’ve got the stripes for it.”

“I like your stripes,” Jefferson purrs, his hand running lightly over Brock’s right arm. 

Brock chuckles. “Yeah, I remember you saying something about liking battlescars.”

There’s a pause, one that’s too long and when Brock shifts to search for Jefferson’s answer, he’s met with a confused, and almost worried, expression. 

“When did I say that?”

Brock’s stomach sinks as he’s rapidly thrown back into the context of that memory, to the hazy eyes that couldn’t quite focus enough to meet his own. “Shit…” 

Jefferson pulls back. “What?”

“No, it’s, um…” Brock sighs heavily. “You didn’t say that. I asked you if you did, the first time we were together, and you just kind of nodded your head…”

The confusion lingers on Jefferson’s face for a moment, but slowly fades in favor of shock as he looks away, seemingly lost for words. “The first time…”

“Sorry,” Brock mutters. “I shouldn’t have brought it up. Wasn’t thinking…”

“It’s ok,” Jefferson sighs. The omega’s gaze falls to his fidgeting hands. “I just don’t like that there’s parts of our relationship that I can’t remember.”

“That night wasn’t part of our relationship,” Brock says quickly, covering Jefferson’s hands with his own. 

“Well at the very least, it was a catalyst…”

“I guess,” Brock shrugs. “Honestly? I hate remembering it.”

That gets Jefferson’s attention, his head jerking back up. “Why?”

“Because…” he trails off, forcing himself to take a deep breath. “Looking back, it seems like I was taking advantage of you or…assaulting you.”

Slowly, Jefferson’s fingers interlock with his own. “Brock, that’s not what happened.” Brock just shrugs. “Hey, listen to me, that’s not what happened.”

Brock does look up, but he’s not convinced. “I don’t know why you see it that way.”

“Because I’ve been assaulted before.” Jefferson’s voice is firm, silencing any protests. “I’ve been taken advantage of, used and treated like I was nothing. You didn’t do that.” He brings Brock’s hand up to his lips for a gentle kiss. “You didn’t know what state I was in, and you were trying so hard to be sweet the next morning.”

“But you seemed pretty traumatized…”

“I was embarrassed,” Jefferson sighs. “And confused…and I was scared about what you might do, not about anything you’d already done. Once I’d had time to calm down, I realized that you’d really done nothing to warrant me being afraid.” He smiles softly. “Do you really think I would’ve had a conversation with you a week later if I felt like you’d abused me? Never mind actually accepting your ‘offer’.”

Brock wants to argue. He really does. He wants to come up with a dozen reasons why Jefferson’s wrong, but nothing’s coming to mind. And he loses more of the will to fight each second he spends looking up at those big, blue eyes. 

“So can you stop beating yourself about that?” Jefferson smiles, still with Brock’s hand cradled to his cheek. Brock can’t do anything but nod as he lets that hand cup Jefferson’s cheek.

“C’mere…” he murmurs, pulling the omega down for a kiss that misses the mark at first because neither one of them can keep from smiling. They manage to fall into step with each other soon enough, however, lips molding together, easy and soft. 

“You’re gonna get us in trouble,” Jefferson sighs. 

“Not as long as we stay quiet,” Brock grins. Jefferson raises an eyebrow at that, but he does lean in for another kiss, deeper this time, making Brock’s breath catch in his chest. Staying quiet is suddenly a task, when all he wants to do is growl against those strawberry-flavored lips, just loud enough to draw a mewl out of Jefferson.

“I’d love to make some better memories with you,” Jefferson sighs when he pulls back, leaving Brock fighting back the urge to chase him for more kisses.

“We have time for all of that,” he nods, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand and chuckling when he greeted with a patch of brilliant red blooming on his skin. “Seems we’ve made a bit of a mess.”

Jefferson rolls his eyes, digging a hand into his pocket and pulling out a little packet of wipes, taking Brock’s hand in his own and carefully cleaning it off before dabbing at his lips. “All clean,” he simpers, pulling a little mirror out of his pocket as well, and starting on his own smudged lips.

“You always carry that stuff with you?”

“Only when I’m all dolled up for you,” Jefferson grins. 

“Lucky me,” Brock chuckles, swallowing a groan when Jefferson starts reapplying that gloss to his lips, the plush skin giving slightly under the gentle pressure of the brush. 

“What exactly is it about putting on lip gloss that earns me that look?”

“Hm?” Brock grunts, snapping out of his daze to find that Jefferson’s grinning at him.

“Well, to be honest, you’re looking at me like you want to eat me.”

Brock finds it in himself to modestly look away, clearing his throat. “Sorry.”

“No, it’s not a bad thing.” Brock cocks an eyebrow and finds those red lips smiling at him while shimmery eyes look him up and down. “I love how you look at me.”

“Well good, because I really love looking at you.” 

Jefferson lasts about three seconds making eye contact before he hides his face in Brock’s shoulder, dissolving into a fit of giggles that draws the gazes of a few bystanders. Brock gives his best apologetic smile, tucking his arms tighter around Jefferson and shushing him gently.

“Love making you laugh too,” he murmurs and Jefferson gives a bright sigh, nuzzling into Brock’s shoulder. “Oh and by the way, you’re definitely a nurse shark.”

“Oh really?” Jefferson giggles. “And why’s that?”

“Because they’re the really gentle ones, right? But they’ll fuck you up if you mess with ‘em.”

“Is that really how you see me?” Jefferson asks softly.

“Yeah,” Brock nods. “I mean, I haven’t seen you really snap, but I think you could if someone pushed you too hard.”

“Maybe so,” Jefferson shrugs. “I’d rather I never had to snap, though.”

“So do I,” Brock smiles, turning to bump his nose against Jefferson’s, making the omega hum in pleasant surprise. “Love how sweet you are…”

Jefferson nods and Brock just manages to see the flash of uncertainty in his eyes before he’s stunned by a shy whisper: 

“I love you.”

Brock sucks in a little breath, too shocked at first to say anything. Jefferson’s tripping over his words in seconds.

“I-I’m not just saying this f-for no reason,” he stutters. “I mean it, I-I’ve known for a while—”

Brock interrupts him with a kiss. “I know,” he murmurs. “I…I’ve known too.” He’s not kidding himself anymore, he’s known since that night he ran out of Jefferson’s apartment. “I love you too.”

Even in the dark room, Jefferson manages to glow as a radiant smile breaks out on his face. Brock’s got one to match, especially when Jefferson dives in to hug him, holding tight. His own arms enfold Jefferson’s body as he presses a kiss to the omega’s cheek, breathing deeply the warm and sweet mixing of their scents. Sometimes, when they’re pressed close like this, it’s almost as if he can’t tell when he ends and Jefferson begins. And he really can’t imagine having it any other way.

“Love you, beautiful,” he whispers. It feels so fucking good to finally say it out loud.

******

When they get back to his apartment, it’s just beginning to get dark outside, pinkish light creeping in through the curtains. Jefferson’s lips have only a faint red stain left on them, since they’d grabbed something to eat before returning home, but Brock can still taste a little hint of strawberry when he catches him against the front door and kisses him.

“Barely even in the door and you can’t keep your hands off me?” Jefferson smiles.

“Couldn’t keep my hands off you even when we were out,” Brock chuckles, nipping lightly at Jefferson’s lip. 

“So I recall.” Jefferson brushes his nose against Brock’s, giving just the barest tease of another kiss. “Are you tired?”

“Not really,” Brock shrugs. “Wanna watch a movie or—”

“Yeah, sounds great.” Jefferson answer is just a touch too quick, but before Brock can question it, his lips are covered by another kiss. “I’m just gonna go change and freshen up a little, ok?”

“Yeah, ok…” Brock nods, watching as Jefferson ducks out from his arms with a funny little smile before disappearing into their bedroom. “Alright then…” he mutters to himself, shrugging off his coat and hanging it up alongside his new scarf, before heading towards the couch. It used to be that he’d never leave the house without his old jacket, but these days, it’s more Jefferson’s than his, and he’s more than happy to share. Not like it’s the first time, he thinks to himself with a smile, despite the little pang in his chest as memories of his tiny brother curled up in that same jacket flick past his eyes. 

It’s kind of amazing how different it is to see Jefferson wearing it. That shiver of arousal had been a shock the first time, but, though he’s become accustomed to that feeling settling in the core of his body, the impact hasn’t lessened as the months have gone by.

And it’s there, just as strong ever, when Jefferson peeks out from behind their bedroom door, with, as far as Brock can tell, only that jacket on. His face is pink from a fresh washing, and his smile is hesitant as he rests his head against the doorframe.

“You’re giving me that look again,” he murmurs. 

“And what look is that?” Brock chuckles as he holds his hand towards Jefferson. The omega steps closer, taking Brock’s hand and letting himself be guided into the alpha’s lap.

“The one where it looks like you want to eat me.”

“You’ll have to forgive me,” Brock chuckles as his hands find Jefferson’s waist. “You know I love seeing you like this.”

“I do,” Jefferson nods. Something flickers in his eyes again, and again, before Brock can say anything, Jefferson’s kissing him, slow and deep, tongue flicking tentatively against Brock’s lips. Brock allows him entrance, his own tongue meeting the omega’s, drawing more eagerness out of him until they’re arching together, lips and tongues locked fervently as their breaths grow quicker and more heated. 

Brock pulls back, very reluctantly, only when he feels Jefferson fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. He raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t argue when Jefferson slips his shirt up further, biting his lip when Brock takes over and tosses it across the room.

“Better?”

“Better.” Jefferson nods, blushing a furious pink. His hands, however, are very curious about trailing down Brock’s chest. Brock draws in a deep breath as those fingers dance over his stomach, then up over the scars on his arm. When Jefferson glances at him for approval, he nods, sighing and letting his eyes close when Jefferson’s lips find his shoulder, pressing soft and warm over the scars. He’s almost never this bold… When Jefferson shifts to straddle his lap, lips pressing carefully to Brock’s neck, he has to smile.

“We’re not watching a movie, are we?” he sighs. Jefferson glances up, his blush beginning to creep down onto his neck as he shakes his head. Brock shifts his hands to Jefferson’s thighs, stroking the bare skin gently. “So what are we doing?”

Jefferson’s voice seems to be fighting him as his face only gets redder, but he finally manages to whisper: “I-I want to make love…”

Brock’s heart melts a little in his chest at the omega’s shy voice, and at the words he chooses. “Are you sure?” he asks. “If this is about what we said earlier today…you’re not obligated, and you don’t have to prove anything.”

“I know,” Jefferson nods quickly. “I want to. I’m ready for it.”

Brock’s not entirely sure he believes it, considering the vibrant color still glowing under Jefferson’s skin. But it can’t hurt to try, even if they only push their boundaries a little. “Ok,” he smiles. “But no rush, ok? We’ve got all night, and you can stop me anytime.”

“Ok,” Jefferson agrees, drawing in a shaky breath as he smiles. He takes Brock hands, guiding them up towards his hips and under the jacket. When Brock feels something delicate that isn’t skin under his fingers, he raises an eyebrow, pushing up the black fabric until he sees a thin band of white lace riding high on the curve of Jefferson’s hip. “I got them a couple weeks ago, I was just waiting for the right time,” Jefferson says by way of explanation. “Do you like them?”

“They’re perfect on you,” Brock grins, watching Jefferson’s eyes widen a little when he slips his thumb under the band, gliding it over Jefferson’s hip, skin to skin. “Will you let me look at you, beautiful?”

“Of course,” Jefferson nods, looking a little confused. Brock smiles as he takes hold of the omega’s waist, carefully guiding him down onto his back. Jefferson lets his legs fall open easily, giving Brock a peek of more white lace where his thighs meet. He focuses his attention, however, on pulling down the jacket’s zipper, nice and slow so he can watch how Jefferson’s breath picks up little by little as more of his chest is revealed. Brock presses a kiss to Jefferson’s lips as he pushes the jacket towards the sides of Jefferson’s body, leaving his torso bare. The omega shivers a little when Brock’s fingertips brush along his sides, twitching away.

“Sorry, ticklish,” he says, apologetic. Brock just shakes his head and steals another kiss.

“It’s ok,” he sighs. Jefferson’s not usually all that ticklish, probably just nerves getting the better of him. “You’re so gorgeous, you know that right?” 

“I know you like to tell me that,” Jefferson murmurs, though he’s still smiling, shy and pretty. Brock chuckles, sliding down so he can pepper kisses across the omega’s soft belly. He’s a little soft everywhere these days, his stomach, his chest, his legs, even his face is a little rounder. Brock wouldn’t have it any other way; it’s almost scary to think how skinny Jefferson had been when they first met, just from not taking care of himself.

“At least we can both agree that these are pretty,” Brock grins as he runs his finger under the band of the panties again, pressing a kiss just below it. Jefferson giggles softly, but that dissolves into a little gasp when Brock’s kisses trail down his thigh, nuzzling just under his knee for a little nip. When Jefferson squeaks, Brock quickly pulls back. “Too rough?”

“No,” Jefferson shakes his head, reaching down to grasp Brock’s hand. “You just surprised me.”

“My bad,” Brock sighs, moving back up and settling himself between Jefferson’s legs so he can lean in for a soft kiss. Time to take his own advice; they do have all night. And he wants Jefferson floating on air by the time this is over.

So kissing it is. Sweet, familiar kisses shared between practiced lips that know just how to match each other touch for touch, breath for breath. Brock runs his fingers through Jefferson’s hair, feeling the curls tangle loosely around his fingers, while Jefferson’s hands glide over his lower back, pulling him in closer.

When he catches Jefferson’s scent growing stronger, Brock has to grin, breaking their kiss in favor of fixing his lips to the spot under the omega’s ear. Jefferson eagerly tilts his head to allow Brock access, mewling sweetly and kissing Brock’s fingers when them move up to tease his lips.

“Brock…”

“Yeah, baby?” He kisses back up to Jefferson’s lips before leaning away a little. Jefferson looks up at him with fluttery eyelashes and lips flushed from kissing. 

“Can we move to the bed?” he asks. 

“Sounds great to me.” 

Their hands stay clasped as Brock leads Jefferson into the bedroom, sitting down on the edge of the bed. Jefferson’s on his lap as soon as he can manage it, cupping Brock’s face so their lips can meet again. When he pulls away, it’s to let the jacket slip off his shoulders, and Brock has to groan softly when it falls off completely, leaving Jefferson is just those lace panties.

He shifts further onto the bed, bringing Jefferson with him until he can lay the omega down, making sure his head and shoulders are rested on the pillows. He looks porcelain against the darker fabric of the sheets. Delicate, maybe even fragile. “Comfortable?”

Jefferson nods, squirming a little under Brock’s gaze as he settles himself on the mattress. It’s really pretty impossible to forget that this is Jefferson’s first experience, Brock swears he can feel those big eyes on his soul. Even if they’ve been half-naked in bed together before, this feels different, tingling with the promise of more.

“Are you nervous?”

“A little,” Jefferson admits. “Just because I’m not really sure what I’m supposed to do.”

“Whatever feels right,” Brock shrugs, eliciting a little smile from Jefferson. “It’s supposed to feel good…and natural.”

Jefferson nods, his hand hovering by Brock’s cheek for a moment before his fingers run gently through his hair and down his arm. When he leans up to kiss Brock’s neck, Brock wraps his arms around the omega’s body, rolling onto his back so Jefferson’s on top of him.

“It’s ok,” he nods when Jefferson looks a little uncertain. “You’re doing fine, trust me.”

Jefferson blushes, but adjusts himself easily on top of Brock so he’s balanced when he leans down, nuzzling against the alpha’s neck and purring softly as his lips make contact again. His hands are exploring Brock’s chest, tracing the curves of muscle and scarring with slow diligence. 

It’s almost shocking, how new and unfamiliar this is. Jefferson’s never been the active one, always lying beneath Brock, passive and only responding with his voice when touched. But fuck if he doesn’t look good on top. Brock could get used to this, looking up at that pretty body and gorgeous face, not to mention feeling those lips moving down onto his chest, light but not hesitating. Brock isn’t about to keep his hands to himself either, his grip finding purchase on Jefferson’s thighs first and then sliding up his back to press him closer.

“See? You know exactly what to do,” he murmurs.

Jefferson smiles, sitting up a little so Brock’s hands fall to his sides, right where his waist dips in just slightly. “Appreciating your body isn’t exactly a chore,” he shrugs, dragging his nails down Brock chest so they catch just barely on his abs. Brock has to let out a weak laugh as his body pushes up of its own accord. He’s already hard, reacting fast and strong as ever for Jefferson. The omega’s eye glitter as he takes in Brock reaction, teeth skating over his lip. “You like it a little rougher, don’t you?”

It’s not a tease, just a question, and Brock sighs softly, stroking down Jefferson’s thighs. “It’s what I’m used to,” he says, offhandedly, before grinning. “But really, beautiful, any way you want to put your hands on me, I’m down for it.”

Jefferson glances away as he giggles, and when he looks back, there’s definitely teasing in his eyes. “You like my hands?”

“I like all of you,” Brock chuckles, lifting up Jefferson’s hands gently so their palms press together, a stark contrast between his—tanned with dark patches of roughness and pale scars breaking across the surface—and Jefferson’s, smooth and dainty. “Your mouth, your legs…that stomach I see you frowning over when you think I’m not looking.” Jefferson rolls his eyes but doesn’t say anything. Brock shrugs it off. “But yeah, I like your hands a lot.”

Jefferson smiles, and his fingers trail slowly out of Brock’s grasp like water trickling down, tickling his skin until one palm lands very softly between his legs. They both suck in a sudden breath, though Jefferson looks almost…surprised? Like he wasn’t expecting to find what his hand is very obviously cupped around.

“Already?” he asks. Brock has to laugh.

“That’s what you do to me, beautiful.” Not like he’s alone, Jefferson’s beginning to put a strain on those panties. He draws in another steadying breath as Jefferson’s hand slides up his length, and then back down, feeling out the shape of it beneath the black denim. Denim which is all of a sudden very, very constricting when Jefferson’s fingers decide to tease the tip of his cock, pressing down ever-so-careful circles. “Jesus, baby…”

Jefferson’s hand flies back almost immediately, much to Brock’s disappointment. “Did that hurt?”

“No,” Brock laughs, feeling Jefferson’s blush against his own cheeks when he sits up to steal a kiss. “Want to help me get these things off?” In spite of his blushing, Jefferson nods at once.

Those pretty hands are far from tentative as they unbuckle Brock’s belt, tossing it out of the way, but there is just a moment of fluttering hesitation before Jefferson sets to work on his button and zipper. It’s far from the most graceful Brock’s ever been—not that he’s ever been very graceful—as he has to squirm out from under Jefferson while the omega’s got his fingers hooked into his waistband of his jeans, but he does manage it, cursing under his breath and kicking the tangled mass of fabric off himself as he pulls a giggling, blushing Jefferson back into his arms.

“We probably could’ve done that better,” Jefferson grins.

“Probably,” Brock smiles back. “But if you’re laughing, I’m not really complaining.” He leans against the headboard, guiding those long legs to straddle him once more as he brings Jefferson in for a kiss. Jefferson parts his lips, humming sweetly to encourage Brock’s tongue into his mouth as his hand moves down from Brock’s jaw, across his chest and back into his lap, wrapping loosely around his cock. Jefferson had been shy enough to leave his boxers on for now, but the touch is still electric as Jefferson starts to stroke slowly. When Brock groans softly in appreciation, he lets out a little purring giggle and his grip tightens, just barely. It’s so, so far from being enough, but as long as the omega stays pressed against him, he’ll take anything Jefferson’s willing to give.

Testing the water, he lets his own hands slip down, taking soft handfuls of Jefferson’s backside. The omega’s breath hitches, but his kisses only grow a touch more desperate as his teeth drag along Brock’s grinning lip. Not bad, Brock grins, taking another chance and letting one finger press in until he’s rubbing gently at Jefferson’s entrance, where he can feel slick even through the fabric between their skin.

That gets more of a reaction. Jefferson gasps and pulls back from their kiss, though he’s not shying away from the touch, searching Brock’s face with wide eyes.

“It’s ok,” Brock murmurs. “Does it feel good?” Jefferson doesn’t hesitate to nod, but hishand shifts up to rest on Brock’s stomach. Brock moves his hand as well, settling it on the small of Jefferson’s back. “We can stop if you want.”

“No,” Jefferson quickly shakes his head. “I just…needed to breathe for a second.”

“You and I both.” He’s got burning chills dancing over his skin from Jefferson’s teasing touches. But the omega’s still looking unsure, his lips parted like he’s struggling for something to say. “You need something?”

“N-not really ‘need’…” Jefferson shrugs, glancing back up through his eyelashes. “Could…could I be on my back again?” he asks, his voice halting. “I like it when you’re over me.”

“Anything you want,” Brock nods. Jefferson clings to him as he maneuvers their position, laying Jefferson on his back and sliding between his legs. Jefferson gasps and lets out a breathy moan when they press flush together, bucking his hips weakly as Brock kisses his neck. “Like that?”

“Just like that,” Jefferson breathes. His head tips so he can brush a kiss against Brock’s temple before the alpha slips lower. Those soft sighs and gasps continue to tantalize as Brock’s lips move over Jefferson’s collarbone, tongue dipping into the hollow of his throat and teeth grazing over the soft flesh where his neck meets his shoulder. The urge to bite, hard, to leave a mark, is there, pulsing in time with Brock’s heartbeat, but he swallows it along with a growl as he chooses instead to suck softly on the skin, just enough that it blooms pink when he pulls back. Jefferson whimpers, but there’s no pain in his face when Brock makes eye contact. 

He’d let himself be marked. Brock knows it. How could he not know it when Jefferson’s looking at him with something like pleading in his eyes? He’d take the bite and the bond that came with it gladly, but Brock just shakes his head.

“Not tonight.” He wishes it didn’t sound so much like a promise, but at least Jefferson nods, smiling softly. There’s a way to do it, anyhow, if you don’t just want to chance it on any old day. They should do it right…

He shakes that thought off. 

Not tonight. 

Pressing one more kiss to Jefferson’s throat, he begins to move lower, flicking his tongue over Jefferson’s nipples and grinning when the omega squeaks softly.

“Good?”

“Yeah—” Brock grins again at the omega’s eager nodding, and hums softly as he fixes his lips to one of those pink buds again while his thumb toys with the other, eliciting a dreamy moan. Very good, apparently, Brock thinks with a smirk, considering how quiet Jefferson’s been. Another change from what he’s used to, but he’ll happily take it when it comes with Jefferson’s hands tangling in his hair, tugging gently.

Teasing Jefferson’s nipple with his teeth now, very careful not to bite too hard and cause pain, his hand drifts lower until it meets lace, cupping gently the hard flesh he can feel underneath. When Jefferson moans, and makes no protest, he presses down a little more firmly, rocking his hand back and forth. Before long, Jefferson’s hips are moving with him, tiny moans muffled by the fact that his teeth are clamped down hard on his swollen, red lip.

“Easy, beautiful,” Brock urges, nuzzling the corner of Jefferson’s mouth until his tense jaw softens enough for a real kiss. The omega struggles to get in a full breath with a hand still rubbing him, but once Brock feels a thready exhale against his lips, he pulls back just enough to see half-lidded, lavender eyes looking back at him. “Can I take these off of you?”

“Uh-huh,” Jefferson murmurs, smiling against Brock’s lips as they share another kiss. Brock continues those kisses down Jefferson’s front, just light enough to make the omega giggle and squirm whenever he hits sensitive spot, like the one just above his navel that Brock can’t resist hovering over for a few moments longer, worrying it pink under his lips until Jefferson’s whining softly at him, thighs squeezing around his rib cage.

Brock has to squirm a little himself to break out of Jefferson’s hold and get low enough that he can run the tip of his tongue over the tip of Jefferson’s cock, right where it’s pressing up desperately against the fabric restraining it. Jefferson’s scent envelopes Brock’s tongue, seeping through to core of his body where it resonates with a deep ache. He wants him so fucking badly…

Jefferson mewls, breaking into more quiet whimpers as Brock teases him with little licks and kisses through the lace. “Brock, please…” 

The needy moan just about does Brock in, and he has to bite his tongue in order to find the will to pull back. The panties feel so delicate, barely there, in his hands as he slowly pulls them down Jefferson’s infinite legs, gliding easily over his smooth skin and sending a visible shiver up the omega’s body. 

“You too,” Jefferson nods. Brock grins, easily ridding himself of his boxers before nudging Jefferson’s knees apart so he can kneel between them.

And then they both just have to take a moment to look, to admire the uninterrupted expanse of skin, to watch how graceful limbs and solid muscles move as they shift under each other’s gazes. Brock’s seen this sight plenty of times, but it’s so different now when he can look at Jefferson’s eyes and see him looking back with a shimmery, but completely in focus, gaze and a gentle smile.

“Are you going to stare all night?”

“Fuck, I probably could,” Brock chuckles, drawing a rosy blush to Jefferson’s cheeks. “I know I say this a lot, but you’re so fucking beautiful.”

“You’re not so bad yourself,” Jefferson murmurs, happily taking Brock’s face in his hands when the alpha leans in for another kiss. It’s not long until Brock’s groaning into Jefferson’s mouth as the omega’s hand finds its way around his cock again, stroking along the length.

“You with those hands again,” he sighs, making Jefferson giggle softly.

“Do you…?” Brock raises an eyebrow, meeting an uncertain gaze and shrugging shoulders. “Did you want me to use my mouth, like you did?”

Brock has to stop and sigh, because his answer is yes. Of course he wants to feel Jefferson’s pretty mouth and sweet tongue wrapped around him. But if those tense shoulders are anything to go by, Jefferson’s answer is no, in spite of his making the offer. He shakes his head, petting Jefferson’s arm gently as he nudges it away from his cock. “You don’t have to do everything all in one night.” 

Clearly that was the right answer, because Jefferson relaxes in the blink of an eye, nodding slightly. The amount of relief there is a little bit heartbreaking.

“Come on, baby, you know I wouldn’t make you do anything you don’t want,” Brock sighs as he runs his fingers through Jefferson’s hair.

“I know,” Jefferson murmurs, looking down. “I just don’t want to disappoint you.”

“Not possible,” Brock smiles and Jefferson’s kissing him again before he knows it. Careful not to pull away too far, he shifts just enough so he can get his hand in between their bodies, drifting down until he finds Jefferson’s slick entrance. The omega starts at the touch, but this time just nods before he’s diving his tongue back into Brock’s mouth. Brock rubs lightly at the soft flesh until he feels it begin to go pliant, then very slowly starts to push his finger inside.

“O-oh—!” The surprised little syllable halts Brock’s hand, ready to pull away, but Jefferson’s quick to grab his arm. “No, I didn’t mean stop,” he murmurs. “It’s just…new.”

“But not bad?” Brock checks.

“Not bad,” Jefferson agrees, biting his lip. “Can you just go slow?”

“Yeah, baby,” Brock nods. He keeps eye contact this time as he starts to slide his finger in and out, shallow at first, then working deeper. Jefferson’s body takes it easily, nice and slick even when he tenses up a little. “You ok?”

“Uh-huh,” Jefferson murmurs, still holding onto Brock’s arm as he stares up at him. A shy smile makes an appearance once more. “I can’t even describe it, it’s so different from anything else…”

“I know what you mean,” Brock laughs. All of this is so different from any of Brock’s previous experiences. Soft and sweet, just like the person looking up at him. “Ready for a little more?”

Jefferson nods eagerly, but apparently wasn’t as prepared as he thought because he tenses up the moment Brock tries to get a second finger into him, wincing with a little frown. 

“Breathe, beautiful,” Brock purrs, lips carefully pressed just under Jefferson’s ear. The omega takes an obedient breath in, letting it out slowly as Brock’s fingers ease into him. “Still ok?”

“Yeah,” Jefferson sighs, laughing softly as he rests his forehead against Brock’s. “I didn’t think you meant you were just going to use two fingers instead of one, but I’m glad you did.” 

“That’s why we go slow, right?” Brock smiles. When Jefferson nods, Brock crooks his fingers inside him, rubbing slowly until Jefferson gasps, his nails digging into Brock’s arm.

“Do that again!”

Brock grins, pumping his fingers slowly in and out, aiming his fingertips to brush that spot as he moves, easier now that more slick is coating his fingers. Jefferson’s eyes flutter shut as he moans, high and silvery, pressing down against Brock’s hand. 

“Oh god…”

Brock chuckles against Jefferson’s throat, humming softly before nipping at his skin. “That’s it, baby, nice and relaxed.”

“Not hard when you’re doing this,” Jefferson smiles, shifting his legs further apart. “I think I can handle a little more.”

Lost in a deep kiss, Jefferson easily opens up for a third finger, moaning as he sucks on Brock’s lower lip. Brock growls low in his throat, his whole body vibrating with it. He’s drowning in Jefferson’s scent, aching between his legs and in the center of his chest. He needs Jefferson, now.

“We need a condom,” he mutters. Jefferson nods, reaching into the bedside drawer to grab one. Brock lets his fingers slip out of the omega, kissing his shoulder gently when he makes a little, disgruntled sound. “Soon enough, baby.”

“I know,” Jefferson smiles as he pushes himself up onto his knees, tearing open the packet in his hands. “Can I put it on you?”

“Whatever makes you happy.” It takes a little longer, since he has to show Jefferson the right way to roll the condom on, but the soft, steady touches send shivers rolling up his back and make heat curl in his lower abdomen. When Jefferson lays back, legs spread, gently pulling Brock down towards him, he has to bite his cheek to keep from moaning pitifully. “Everything still ok?”

“Yes, Brock, I’m still ok,” Jefferson smiles, but there’s a flash of something behind his eyes.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” he nods. “Uh…do you think you’ll…you know, knot, while you’re in me?”

“I don’t know, honestly,” Brock shrugs. Can’t say he’s really surprised by the question, though he wishes he had a better answer. “It’s hard to tell, unless it’s right beforehand.”

“Right,” Jefferson nods. Brock sighs and kisses him gently.

“If you’re nervous about it hurting, I don’t have to put it inside you.”

“That won’t hurt you?”

“No,” Brock laughs softly. “It’s…a little frustrating at most.” That’s a bit of an understatement, but not hurting Jefferson is worth some discomfort. It’s also worth the warm smile that Jefferson sends up at him, which Brock readily covers with a kiss.

Their kisses are more heated now, more teasing teeth and searching tongues. Wanting, but with hints of shyness still slipping in from Jefferson. Always gentle, no touch lasts very long, and there’s a tension returning to his shoulders that Brock can feel when he strokes his hand down the length of Jefferson’s torso, finding his grip on a milky thigh to hitch it up around his waist. 

“Look at me, beautiful,” he whispers, waiting for Jefferson’s eyes to flick up to his own. “There’s nothing to be nervous about, I’ve got you.”

“I know you do,” Jefferson nods, breathing out a heavy breath that leaves his body airy and soft underneath Brock’s.

“You trust me?” Brock asks, pressing a kiss to Jefferson’s forehead.

“I do.” Jefferson giggles a little when Brock’s kisses dot his cheeks, right where his dimples peak out. 

“I love you.”

For a moment, Jefferson looks shocked. Brock's almost hurt that Jefferson wouldn’t expect him to say it. Almost. But then a brilliant smile breaks out across his face, lighting up the whole room. “I love you too.”

Brock has to smile in return, wrapping his arms tight around Jefferson’s body to hold him close as sweet lips welcome him again. He presses his hips forward, nudging the tip of his cock against Jefferson’s entrance and grinning when he feels the omega’s quiet whimper on his tongue. He breaks the kiss just long enough to make eye contact as he pushes forward again, moaning as Jefferson’s tight heat opens for him and the omega’s eyes go wide.

There’s almost no resistance as he enters Jefferson, who chokes out a gasping moan, never once looking away from Brock, even as his hands grip fiercely to the broad shoulders above him. Brock swears he almost doesn’t trust himself with that face staring up at him, completely open and vulnerable, wide eyes and rosebud mouth, blushing from the peaks of his cheekbones all the way down his chest. 

“Jesus christ, baby…” he moans. He hasn’t moved yet, buried deep inside Jefferson’s body as they breathe together. He’s burning all over from denying himself, but part of him doesn’t want to spoil this moment by moving. He does lean down to kiss those trembling lips though, drinking in the soft purr the omega lets out. “Say something for me, beautiful.”

“I don’t know what to say,” Jefferson breathes, carressing their lips together again with a tilt of his head. “There aren’t words…” He presses one hand to his lower belly and Brock groans softly when the pressure reaches through to where they’re connected. “Let me feel you.”

Brock doesn’t need any more prompting, rocking his hips slowly back, then forward again. Jefferson’s eyes slip closed for just a moment, another pretty moan slipping out of him. Then his gaze is fixed back on Brock’s, magnetic lavender in the low light. They fall into each other; lips, hands, arms all interlocking perfectly as Brock presses deep into Jefferson's willing body again and again, and Jefferson presses back, riding the waves of each other’s bodies on instinct and pleasure alone. 

Brock’s drowning in all of it, drunk on all of it, flying on Jefferson’s scent and warmth and lilting moans… On how he can feel each one of those moans pouring into and filling his own chest through their joined lips, tumbling and whirling inside him until they erupt back out as his own deep groans, half-lost in the swell of Jefferson’s chest as he takes their shared breath back.

When that breath hitches in a way it shouldn’t, Brock leans back just in time to catch a glimpse of wetness on Jefferson’s cheek before the omega ducks to hide it. 

“Hey, look at me,” Brock urges, cupping Jefferson’s face to guide it back up. Jefferson shakes his head lightly, but his breath is still catching weakly in his throat and both eyes are glistening. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” Jefferson whispers. A little smile curls on his lips as his fingers slide through Brock’s hair. “Nothing at all. It’s just—” His breath catches again, and Brock hushes him softly, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“Overwhelming?”

“Oh god yes,” Jefferson laughs breathily. His arms wind around Brock’s body as he hides his face in the alpha’s neck. “I’m sorry, it’s silly, I just never imagined it could be like this.”

“It’s not silly,” Brock sighs, hugging Jefferson tight to his chest and kissing softly at his neck. “You need a minute?”

“No,” Jefferson sighs, smiling when Brock kisses the corner of his eyes where the tears are freshly budding. “I want you so bad.”

“As long as you can promise me that those are happy tears, I’m all yours.”

“They are happy,” Jefferson laughs softly, leaning up to kiss Brock. “And I’m already all for you.”

This time, as they come together and set their pace, it’s slower, gentler, but no less intense, both with their eyes open, sharing every moment between them. Their kisses are brief but all-encompassing, a world of heat and light between their lips before they part again. Jefferson’s hands stroke Brock's body, down his chest, up his back, through his hair, while Brock’s touch covers soft hips and thighs, just barely letting his nails graze the skin to tease Jefferson with a new sensation. But there’s no pulling away from those eyes, drinking in each little spark of pleasure that flickers through them, each emotion lingering in a glow. Wonder…love…Brock can’t believe those emotions are because of him, but he knows they’re being reflected back in his own eyes for Jefferson to see himself.

They can’t last forever like that though, soon enough Jefferson’s breaths pick up and his whimpers get higher and longer as his body rolls against Brock’s more insistently. Brock slips his hand between their bodies to grasp the omega’s cock, drawing a moan out of him.

“It’s alright, baby,” he murmurs when he feels Jefferson’s body tense up, resistant. “Just let go, I’ve got you.”

“I-I don’t want it to be over,” Jefferson whimpers softly. Brock doesn’t hesitate to soothe him with a kiss.

“Neither do I,” Brock sighs. “That’s why I’m not going anywhere.” Another kiss, this time to Jefferson’s cheek where his dimple makes an appearance. “Don’t fight it, beautiful.”

Jefferson manages a little nod before gasping when Brock starts to stroke him faster, eyelashes fluttering as he struggles to keep his gaze on Brock’s face. Brock feels every moment of it as Jefferson comes apart piece by piece, trembling as his toes curl and his hands cling desperately until his eyes finally screw shut and he throws his head back with a moan that rocks through every part of him. His whole body arches and undulates, pressing and tensing around Brock’s length for a maddening pleasure that’s just this side of pain, until there’s a release and he falls pliant against the bed.

Brock’s first instinct is to stop, make sure he’s alright, but before he even has a chance to slow his pace, the omega’s eyes are fluttering back open and he’s beaming up at Brock, arms winding around the alpha’s shoulders. “Don’t stop,” he whispers, in a voice almost airy enough to be a giggle. 

Brock’s in no position to argue, especially when Jefferson’s tensing and shivering around him with every thrust, moaning soft pleas to encourage him. He feels the heat pressing in his lower stomach and knows he’s going to knot.

“I—”

“I know,” Jefferson interrupts, thighs hugging tighter around Brock’s waist. “I want it.”

Brock’s got no time to question it as heat suddenly rolls through him, dragging a groan out of his throat as he pushes deep inside Jefferson, fist tangling in the sheets underneath them as his whole body goes taut under Jefferson’s gentle hands. 

The moment his knot swells, catching inside Jefferson’s tightening walls, it’s like the whole world comes to a screeching halt. They both cry out, Jefferson’s voice ringing through the room while Brock’s is muffled against Jefferson’s throat, and the air crackles like it’s been electrified, searingly bright on their skin where ever they aren’t touching each other, pushing them to press impossibly closer as they tremble under the heavy burn of it. They kiss and pet and whisper nothings in what little space they’ll allow between their lips, finding refuge in each other from the oppressive heat and burn of everything that isn’t their lover’s body. 

With time, that electricity softens out, seeping down into them in shivery little sparks that give one last echo as a soft ache between them. And then even that is gone, leaving only a heady warmth centering on where they’re joined, soothing every muscle in their bodies.

Brock’s head is rested on Jefferson’s chest, riding the gentle rise and fall of the omega’s steadying breaths. “That was…” he fails to find a word and shakes his head, speechless as he nuzzles Jefferson’s still flushed and dewy neck .

“Perfect,” Jefferson supplies for him, making him smile.

“That’s a good word for it,” Brock sighs, forcing himself to push up a little to lay a kiss on Jefferson’s lips. “ I think you put it well earlier: “different from anything else’.”

“Even for you?” Jefferson asks softly.

“Even for me,” Brock nods. “It’s never been like that with anybody. Hell, it’s never been like that even with you before.”

“Really?”

“Really,” Brock smiles. His fingers find themselves lost Jefferson’s curls where they’ve fanned out like a halo around his face. “I guess I needed you to be here with me in order for it to be perfect.”

He’s amazed by how true he finds those words to be. He can’t imagine feeling that way with anyone else, or with Jefferson in any other state. How they’ll manage to deal with heats now, when they know how good it can feel to be together, he has no idea…

But they don’t need to think about that tonight. And without much effort the thought slips away in favor of looking into the shimmery eyes smiling up at him.

“I love you,” Jefferson whispers.

“I love you, too,” Brock replies. And dear god, he does. He knows it with a pang in his chest that, for a moment, he swears Jefferson can feel too, both of them feeling a hitch in their breath before Brock draws Jefferson in close one more time.

He loves Jefferson so fucking much. He wouldn’t trade this for anything in the world.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...I'm sorry

“So was yesterday everything you’d imagined it would be?”

Coming from literally anyone else, in literally any other situation, the question might’ve sounded genuinely affectionate. But Jack smirking the words at him from across a doorway only makes Brock roll his eyes so aggressively it almost hurts.

“God, shut up,” he groans, laughing as he waves a couple through the door. The club’s usually pretty quiet on a Monday, mostly college-age kids looking to ease the pangs of starting the week and the older barflies who never really leave. Quiet enough that he and Jack are the only two working security, and they can post up by the door to let the night pass, almost always without incident.

“What? I’m just asking,” Jack chuckles. “You looked like you were having fun.”

“We were having fun,” Brock nods.

“What’d you guys d—?”

“No.” 

Jack frowns at him and Brock just shakes his head, flippant as he flashes a smile. “No, I’m not telling you, you’re just gonna be a dick about it.”

“Come on,” Jack whines, but Brock stays resolute. “You’re no fucking fun.”

“I’m plenty of fun,” Brock snorts.

“Well, I might believe you if you told me what kind of dates you were taking your boy on,” Jack grins, with the sort of voice that warns he won’t be letting this go anytime soon. Brock sighs heavily, resting his head back against the wall.

“He asked me to take him to the aquarium, so I did.”

He expects no less, but it still makes him groan internally when Jack doubles over with laughter. “See? You. Being a dick. You just can’t help yourself.”

“Shove it, you know that’s fucking precious,” Jack shoots back. “I hope he at least let you get lucky afterwards.”

Brock grimaces. “It’s not like that.”

“Right, right, my mistake. Forgot that he makes you all sappy and shit,” Jack teases. “But you did get lucky, right?”

Brock rolls his eyes. “Yeah,” he sighs, smiling to himself. “First time for everything.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Brock rolls his neck to glance over at Jack, shrugging. “Means we hadn’t really slept together until last night.” He can’t help but laugh at the look on Jack’s face.

“I thought sex was the whole reason this started?”

“It was,” Brock smirks, snorting at the confusion only settling in heavier on the other alpha’s face. Call him cruel, but he’s enjoying watching Jack squirm.

“Ok…” Jack drags the word out, still frowning. “I know I’m not drunk…or high…so you must be genuinely not making any fucking sense.”

Brock shrugs, smiling again. “We hadn’t done it while he wasn’t in heat. Last night was the first time for that.”

“That makes a big difference?”

“Oh yeah,” Brock chuckles.

“And…?” Jack presses, shoving Brock’s shoulder when the only response he gets is a smile. “Come on, don’t be a prude. How was it?”

“Fucking great,” Brock grins, cocking an eyebrow. “It’s was great this morning too…”

He barely even hears Jack’s rude whistling, too busy enjoying the memory of how he’d kissed Jefferson awake, how the omega had pulled him closer with teasing words on sweet lips. It’s like floodgates opened after that first time, and now there was no way they could keep their hands off each other. Brock’s still got nailmarks on the small of his back from where Jefferson gripped tight to him, drawing him in with a silky voice and adoring eyes again and again and again…

“Fuck, man…”

Brock hums, questioning, as he glances back over at Jack, who’s grinning at him. “What?”

“You have got it so fucking bad.”

Brock can’t do anything but laugh along with Jack, because holy hell does he know that’s the truth. 

“Never thought I’d be here,” he sighs. 

“I did.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah,” Jack shrugs. “I mean, when it was the two of us, you were always the one who wanted to be closer.”

“I guess,” Brock mumbles, shifting awkwardly. Jack mirrors him, flexing his shoulders.

“I just mean that you’ve always been kinda romantic,” he adds. “You always wanted to kiss or cuddle or whatever.”

“If that counts as romantic,” Brock snorts. 

“I’m pretty sure it does,” Jack mutters. “I mean, I just know I had no interest.” 

“I’ll try not to take that personally.”

“It’s not personal,” Jack smiles. “Just not my thing.”

It’s nothing Brock didn’t already know, but he’s never really heard Jack say it out loud. He cocks an eyebrow as he glances over. “That have anything to do with the problem you have with omegas?”

Jack looks down, and there’s a weighty pause before he answers. “Not really. Just don’t find ‘em attractive. Too soft, too small…the scent isn’t terrible but it turns me off.”

Brock’s not buying. “Not being attracted to them is one thing, but I’ve seen how you turn up your nose at them. You’ve got a real issue.”

“Sounds really shitty when you put it that way,” Jack grumbles. Brock rolls his eyes. It is really shitty.

Before Brock can press Jack, they’re both distracted when a couple kids try to slip through the door. One glance and Brock knows their type: trustfund babies, the kind who think they’re invincible because they’ve got their parents’ money to throw around. Brock swears he can smell it on them. 

“Yeah, not happening,” Jack snaps, throwing his arm across the door. When the pretty brunette ringleader of the group tries waving an ID in Jack’s face, he gets a broad hand shoving his skinny chest back. “Nice try, you’re like twelve and my grandmother could see that’s fake.”

Brock smirks as the kids throw a few sneers over their shoulders before heading down the block, bitching the whole way. “Probably think they can smile their way in somewhere else.”

“Doubt they’ll get far with those babyfaces,” Jack mutters. “Maybe if they spent a little less on clothes and a little more on good fakes they’d have some luck.”

They share a look and Brock smiles as he rests back against the wall, some lightness having been restored. “So are you gonna continue sharing with the class or have I already pushed my luck enough?”

“Shut up…” Jack whines, but there’s no heart in it. Brock just waits for the other alpha to string his words together. “Look, it’s just always been weird with omegas, ok? Alphas were easy and betas just ignored me, but omegas were always flirting. Trying to hang off me and getting really upset when I didn’t give them what they wanted.” Jack’s tongue swipes across his teeth, getting a rough bite before he continues. “I don’t know…guess I got called a freak so much for not being interested that just started to have this aversion after a while.”

“So, let me get this straight…” Brock starts, a deep frown settling in his mouth. “You hate omegas…because you aren’t attracted to them?” Not exactly an award-winning excuse.

“‘S not like I didn’t try to be,” Jack snaps, before averting his eyes again as he rubs the back of his neck. “I knew I wasn’t normal.”

“Fuck ‘normal’,” Brock scoffs. “I’m not normal either.”

“But you’re with an omega, like a normal alpha should be…”

Brock’s about to snap that being with a male omega isn’t most people’s idea of normal, that he and Jefferson haven’t gone without incident for being atypical, but Jack’s downcast eyes and clenched jaw silence him for a moment, making him narrow his own gaze. “Is that what all this is about?” Jack doesn’t move or make a sound. “What? You think I…I fucking betrayed you or some shit by getting with an omega?”

“I’m not saying it makes sense!” Jack growls, shoving his hands in his pockets and hunching his shoulders as his voice lowers to a mumble. “But yeah, sure, that’s one way to put it.”

Brock runs a hand through his hair, groaning weakly. “I swear to god, if you tell me you’re jealous—”

“I’m not jealous,” Jack hisses, his hands balling up into fists. “Can you save the fucking lovers’ quarreling for your actual lover? I don’t want to deal with it…”

“And I don’t want to deal with you being a pissy brat on a hair trigger,” Brock retorts. “Maybe if you weren’t acting like a fucking spurned lover or whatever, I wouldn’t have to be arguing with you like one.”

“Fuck you,” Jack grunts. “I’m not fucking jealous. I just told you: romance, not my thing. I’ve got zero interest in getting what Jefferson has with you.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

Jack growls under his breath, clearly boiling just under the surface with frustration. “‘S fucking pathetic…”

“This whole argument is fucking pathetic, you can’t possibly make it worse.” Jack shoots him a glare that Brock meets and shrugs off readily. “What?” he demands.

Jack’s jaw clenches again, but his eyes only drop slightly as the words force their way out past his teeth. “Just don’t want things to change between us because you’ve got this new thing with him.”

Brock jerks back. Something heavy coils in the pit of his stomach, radiating stiffness up his back “…It won’t…” he manages to mumble, staring straight ahead and clearing his throat. He’s never been this physically uncomfortable in his life.

“Right…”

“I mean it,” Brock snaps, huffing as he bites the inside of his cheek. “You’ve always been there for me, man. Takes a helluva lot to make that go away.”

“Didn’t seem to take all that much that night you brought him here.”

“Because you decided to be a knotheaded ass and scare the hell out of Jefferson,” Brock rolls his eyes. “And you know it, too.”

“Yeah, I know it too, that’s why I apologized yesterday,” Jack mutters, his upper lip twitching in annoyance. 

“Right,” Brock nods. “So long as you aren’t a dick, we’re good.”

“Fine.”

They’re silent. Brock nods firmly as Jack chews on his tongue. But only a few moments pass before Brock hears a snort from Jack’s direction. When he looks over, the other alpha’s shaking his head, slowly dissolving into laughter.

“You’re right,” he manages to get out, still grinning. “We are pathetic.”

It takes all of a few seconds before a laugh tears out of Brock’s chest and he drops his head down. “Can’t argue with that.”

When they fall quiet this time, it’s with a drawn out sigh that makes them both give a final chuckle.

“He had you pegged, you know,” Brock adds after a moment.

“Jefferson?”

“Yeah.” He smiles as Jack cocks an eyebrow. “Told me weeks ago that you were pissed because I’d chosen him over you or whatever. I didn’t really believe him, but apparently I should have.”

“Apparently,” Jack mutters, sarcastic but still smiling. “He and Nat would probably get along great.”

Brock can’t help but smirk. “Obviously they do,” he shrugs. “They’re having dinner together on Wednesday.”

“You’ve got to be kidding.”

“Not kidding. And with those two colluding, you know we’re fucked.”

“Where’s the ‘we’?” Jack snorts. “He’s your boyfriend, not mine.”

“Yeah, but Nat’s got shit on both of us, so you’re fair game as much as I am,” Brock laughs. “Us, along with probably half the fucking city.”

“Jefferson does that people-watching thing, too?”

“Oh yeah,” Brock chuckles. “Knows everything about his neighbors—my neighbors too at this point—all the baristas and regulars at the coffee place we like, and everyone who’s visited the shop where he works more than twice. He knew I was military right off the bat. ”

“Well you scream military,” Jack smirks. “Even with that cockatoo haircut.”

“Hey, I happen to like my hair…and so does my boyfriend,” Brock scoffs, pursing his lips when Jack looks unconvinced. “At least I put some effort into it. Better than you just trying to adhere it to your skull with gel.”

Jack shrugs. “Maybe I’ll just shave it off, save myself the trouble.”

“Can’t take you fucking anywhere looking like that,” Brock teases. “Would make you scarier though.”

“Like I need help with that,” Jack smiles. Brock can’t do anything but nod in agreement. It goes quiet again, comfortable, but eventually, Brock has to sigh.

“You gotta get over this shit with omegas, man,” he mutters, glancing over at Jack, who has the grace to look away. “It’s not right. You know it’s not right.”

“I know, I’m working on it.” Jack grunts. “I was good with your boy, wasn’t I? Made him smile.” 

“You were,” Brock nods. “He wants you to like him. Wants everybody to get along.”

“That’s so cute,” Jack deadpans.

“He is cute.” Brock grins when Jack rolls his eyes.

“I swear to god…should I be expecting him to have a mark on his neck the next time I see him?”

“What?!” Brock splutters. Where the fuck had that come from? “No! No way. It’s not even been six months.”

“Hey, my parents bonded after just a couple weeks,” Jack shrugs. Brock makes a face.“Hell, some people do it on the first night if they don’t mind rushing through it.”

“Oh yeah, like my father?” Brock snaps, choking on his own sarcasm. “Who sweet-talked my mom and bit her in a fucking alleyway behind some dive while they were both wasted? Yeah, those bondings always work out great.” 

“Hey, some do, sorry,” Jack sighs, holding up his hands in surrender. “I’m just saying, supposedly, when you know, you just know.”

“Well I don’t fucking know just yet,” Brock mutters.

“You’ve thought about it though—?”

“I said I don’t know yet!” Brock grunts, grinding his teeth together. “Sharing your head with somebody is a big fucking deal.”

“No kidding,” Jack nods, smiling wryly after a moment. “Kinda glad I’ll never have to deal with that.”

“Careful, I thought the same thing a few months ago. You never know.”

“Yeah, I do.” Jack sends Brock a harsh look before smiling. “Come on, don’t you think that, if I was going to feel something, I’d have felt it by now?”

Brock opens his mouth to argue, but nothing comes to mind. “If you say so,” he mutters. Not really worth arguing it anyhow; his brain’s busy enough mulling over the idea of bonding with Jefferson. Not like it hasn’t crossed his mind before…every time his mouth is anywhere near Jefferson’s neck, and every time Jefferson begs for it while he’s lost in a fog of heat…but it’s always been not tonight, not this week, not this month.

It’s never been a genuine let’s-do-this option.

Just like it still isn’t. Not tonight, not this week, not this month.

“You wanna get a drink after our shift?”

“Hm?” Brock glances up at the question. Jack rolls his eyes.

“You wanna grab a drink?”

“Oh…” Brock winces. He’s going to get so much shit for this. “Uh, nah, I don’t think…I told Jefferson I wouldn’t be out too late so…” The second Jack begins his dramatic sigh, Brock steels himself. “For fuck’s sake—”

“No, no, it’s fine,” Jack mumbles, even as the ghost of a smile still tugs at his mouth. “Go home and cuddle your boy…I’ll just be here…”

“Shut up.” Even with his eyes closed, he can hear the smirk on Jack’s face.

“By myself…in a bar…”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“With nothing to do but make bad decisions…”

“Oh, right, because I’ve always been able to stop you from making bad decisions,” Brock rolls his eyes, slipping on a smirk of his own. “Your mother could be on the barstool next to yours and you’d still make bad decisions.”

“As if she’d be caught dead in a place like this,” Jack snorts. Brock has to nod, laughing at the image of Jack’s mother perched on a barstool, fussing at Jack in that lilting foreign language they always use when it’s just the two of them talking.

“I still don’t understand how that tiny, sweet woman got you for a kid.”

“Well, she also got four tiny, sweet daughters after me, so I guess that balances it out,” Jack mutters. “I should tell her you’re seeing somebody, she’ll probably get real excited about it.”

“Oh god, no—”

“Come on, she’d love it,” Jack prods. “I’m pretty sure she considers you one of her kids already. She always wanted more boys.”

“Hence your four sisters?”

“Hence my four baby sisters,” Jack nods solemnly. “Who all have mates and babies of their own now.” He shakes his head. “You’d think my mother could lay off me about ‘settling down’ since she’s already a grandmother six times over, with more probably on the way…”

“Jesus christ…”

“No fucking kidding.”

Brock sighs heavily. He’s only met one of Jack’s sisters, because she lives in the area, and even then it was only in passing. Family’s a touchy subject with Jack. Not really hard to imagine why…

The rest of their shift passes peacefully, some conversation here and there, but mostly just enjoying each other’s company. Brock’s not going to admit it, and he knows Jack’s the same way, but he’s missed this. Missed his best friend.

Jack slaps him on the back affectionately before heading towards the bar, making Brock smile all the way to his car. And when he arrives home, Jefferson’s waiting for him on the couch, curled up, reading, though he sets his book down and reaches his hand out towards Brock as soon as he sees him, a glowing smile lighting up his eyes.

When and how did he earn being this lucky?

“How was work?” Jefferson asks once Brock’s settled next to him, their fingers interlocking as Jefferson rests his legs across Brock’s lap. Brock shrugs, pressing a kiss to Jefferson’s lips when he leans in closer.

“Can’t complain,” he smiles. “Better now that Jack and I are talking again.”

“I’m glad,” Jefferson sighs, contented, laying back down and wriggling a little to get comfortable. “I know you missed him.”

Brock smiles. “Mindreader.”

“Not minds,” Jefferson giggles. “Just faces…voices…between the lines of what you think you’re saying to me.” Brock rolls his eyes.

“You know me better than I do.”

“Comes with loving you, I think.” When Brock glances over, he’s met with another beautiful smile, one that makes it a little harder to take in a full breath. He lifts the omega’s hand to his mouth, kissing it lightly, sighing when the warmly scented skin shifts to brush against his cheek. “Can I talk to you about something?”

The abrupt shift, the softening of Jefferson’s voice, makes Brock furrow his brow as he looks over to see Jefferson sitting up, hands pulling back to fidget in his lap. “Yeah, baby, ‘course you can.”

Jefferson makes an attempt at smiling, but he really only manages a twitch of his lip. “I…um…I-I’ve just been thinking about something…”

Jefferson’s hands are fluttering, his fingers snagging on one another. Brock covers them with his own hand, squeezing gently when Jefferson takes hold. “You’re freaking me out a little,” he jokes, hoping Jefferson can’t tell how much truth there is to that. Jefferson visibly deflates. “Come on, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” Jefferson sighs. “I’m sorry, it’s not anything you should be worried about.” He bites his lip, pausing again. “I-I’ve just been thinking…it’s been a few years since I asked a doctor about treating this…this problem I’ve got. And I’ve been thinking it might be time to try again, to see if anything’s changed as far as what they can do for me.”

Brock’s eyes widen and he can’t help a little laugh. “That’s what you’re all nervous about? That sounds like a great idea.”

Jefferson gives a little smile, but there’s still tension in his shoulders as he shrugs, sitting up a little straighter, pulling his legs underneath him. “I did some looking and there’s this one doctor in the city who specializes in omegas who have problems with their cycles. I thought we could go to her.”

“You want me to go with you?” 

Caught, Jefferson’s mouth forms a little ‘o’ of surprise before he looks down, a little extra color rising in his cheeks. “W-well, I mean, I can’t tell her much about what I’m like when it gets bad, so, maybe you could help with that…”

“Right,” Brock nods, frowning a little when Jefferson squeezes his hand again. “But that’s not all, is it?”

“No…” Jefferson sighs. “I-I just really don’t like doctors, you know? Even just researching makes me…”

He trails off, but his palm presses against the center of his chest, right where Brock’s felt his own anxiety build. “I know,” he sighs, sliding his arms around Jefferson’s waist to pull him closer. “I’ll go with you, if that’s what you want.”

“Thank you,” Jefferson sighs, nuzzling into Brock’s shoulder. “I’m just so tired of doctors…of having them not help me.”

“They drag you to a lot of them when you were younger?”

“Oh god yeah…” Jefferson huffs. “Back when I was fourteen, when it first started getting really bad, my foster parents brought me to every doctor in the region to get poked and prodded and shot up with god-knows-what.”

Brock grimaces, remembering the time he spent being shipped around between hospitals and rehab centers. “But they couldn’t find anything that worked?”

Jefferson nods. “A lot of the possible treatments were experimental and just cost too much, but everything they tried did nothing. I’m pretty sure I was on every birth control there was, but they all just messed up my cycle and made me sick.” He sighs, a little quiver in his breath giving away how hard the memory of it actually is. “Eventually, I got too expensive, so my foster parents gave me back to the system.” Jefferson’s hand fidgets with the zipper of Brock’s jacket, a little frown tugging his lips. “After that no family would take me.”

Brock catches that fidgety hand, kissing it lightly as he holds Jefferson tighter. “I’m sorry, baby,” he murmurs. 

“You know what one of the doctors told me?”

“What?” Brock asks, though he almost doesn’t want to know.

“That I should just be given to an alpha who could take care of me. Someone who understood,” Jefferson grimaces. “On my fifteenth birthday, he told me that, can you believe…?”

“I really wish I couldn’t,” Brock sighs. 

“Because just having an alpha has worked out so great…” Jefferson mumbles, though his eyes rapidly go wide when Brock chuckles. “I’m sorry,” he amends. “I just meant—”

“I know what you meant,” Brock interrupts, kissing Jefferson’s lips when the omega still looks unsure. “Having me around didn’t cure anything, it’s just turned your problem into our problem.”

“Right,” Jefferson sighs. “You know, it really means so much that you’re ok with all of this, I know it’s not easy for you.”

“And what makes you say that?”

“The way you look at me once my heat’s broken.” Jefferson’s eyes are soft, shimmery, and he manages a weak smile as he takes in the look of surprise Brock knows is winding through his face. “The way you hold me and kiss me…it’s like I’ve been away for a year and just came back to you unexpectedly.”

Brock can’t do anything but look apologetic. What’s there to say? It’s not like Jefferson’s wrong. “I guess I do miss you,” he shrugs after a moment. “I’m also not a fan of seeing you hurt, so…”

“I know,” Jefferson murmurs, pressing a kiss to Brock’s forehead. “But thank you for helping me not hurt quite so bad.”

“Whatever I can do,” Brock sighs. Before he knows it, Jefferson’s cuddling close, arms wrapped tight around his shoulders, and even faster he’s holding Jefferson in return, eyes closed as he noses into Jefferson’s curls. 

“A lot can change in a few years,” he adds, stroking Jefferson’s back gently. “Maybe things will be different now.”

“That’s what I’m hoping,” Jefferson nods. He smiles softly, glancing up at Brock through his long lashes. “What about you?”

“What about me?” Brock mirrors, raising an eyebrow.

“We said a while ago that you should think about seeing someone, a therapist,” Jefferson sighs. “Have you thought about actually doing it? I know you’re still having nightmares…”

“I know,” Brock grumbles. “I know…I have been thinking about it.”

“They have people specifically for veterans, don’t they?”

“Yeah, but you can’t trust the V.A. to get you somebody any kind of quick,” Brock chuckles wryly. “Especially for something that isn’t a big deal, like nightmares.”

“Seems like a big deal to me…”

“Maybe,” Brock shrugs. “But they’ve got people who’re climbing walls…or swallowing bottles full of pills. They’ve got limited resources, and someone like me would be low on the priority list. It’s just triage.”

“Then we’ll find you somebody else,” Jefferson murmurs. “How bad can it be?”

Brock shakes his head, but lets his eyes close when Jefferson presses a kiss to his cheek. “How bad can it be…” he sighs. “Can I try to answer that tomorrow? I’m too tired to stress myself out tonight.” Jefferson grins back at him, stealing another kiss from his lips.

“Me too,” he nods. “Might not manage to sleep, but I am tired.”

“Gonna do more reading instead?” Brock smiles, reaching to grab Jefferson’s book from the coffee table, running his thumb over the ragged edges and well-worn spine. “This poor little book…”

“I like my little book,” Jefferson smiles, plucking it from Brock’s hand before heading into the bedroom. Brock follows, stripping off his jacket and shirt while Jefferson tucks himself into bed, and can’t help but notice Jefferson averting his gaze as he pulls off his jeans.

“Still shy?” he teases, crawling onto the bed and over Jefferson, whose legs fall open easily to accommodate him, even with a blanket still separating their skin.

“Only a little,” Jefferson smiles, tracing his fingertips along Brock’s jaw. Brock brushes his lips against those curious fingers, eliciting a smile from the omega beneath him.

“Oh really?” he grins. “Because I’ve got some scratches on my lower back that tell me you’re anything but shy.”

Jefferson blushes prettily at that. “Sorry…” he murmurs. Brock silences that with a quick kiss.

“Nothing to be sorry about,” he murmurs, trailing his lips down to Jefferson’s jaw, nuzzling the soft skin under his ear. “Wouldn’t mind you doing it again.”

“I thought you were tired,” Jefferson purrs, running his hand through Brock’s hair.

“I am tired,” Brock smiles, pulling away so he can slip under the blanket, pulling Jefferson in close. “Just making an offer for next time.”

“Good to know,” Jefferson nods, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand as a yawn wells up out of him. 

“Think you might be able to sleep?”

“Who’s to say, really…?” Jefferson sighs, shrugging off a sad little smile as he opens his book again flipping through the pages before settling on a poem to read. Brock rests his head on a pillow, watching Jefferson’s sleepy eyes scan the page.

“Is that one your favorite?” 

“My favorite poem?” Jefferson clarifies, and when Brock nods, he grins and shakes his head, flipping through the pages again until he lands on one entitled ‘Kindness’. “This one’s my favorite, in this book at least. I’ve fallen asleep with it open to this page so many times I almost tore the binding.” He laughs softly as he points to the deep rift in the book’s spine, right in the fold of the open page. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you reading that one,” Brock murmurs, glancing through the words. They’re familiar, but nothing specific is coming to mind.

“I actually haven’t read it in a while,” Jefferson muses, a little frown coming to his face.

“What?”

“Nothing,” Jefferson sighs, shrugging a little. “It’s just that I used to read this one every day, multiple times a day. But I don’t think I’ve even looked at it in months.”

“That’s…weird,” Brock mutters, and Jefferson nods in agreement. “How come?”

“I’m not sure,” Jefferson replies, and then that frown begins to be replaced by a smile, little by little. “I mean, there’s something I can think of…”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Jefferson turns onto his side, the book tucked close to his chest. “The poem’s about having someone be kind to you, care about you, when you aren’t well. And I used to want that so badly, just to have someone care about me and be kind to me.” That smile broadens, the light from Jefferson’s eyes beginning to brighten the whole room. “Maybe once I actually had it, I didn’t need to read about the fantasy of it anymore.”

It takes a moment for the words to settle in. Brock doesn’t quite understand them at first. But then the warmth from those gorgeous blue-grey eyes makes its way into his chest, coiling and blooming until it’s so full there’s almost no room for breath. Numbly, he reaches for Jefferson, pulling him in and closing his eyes. 

“You’re too much for me,” is all he manages to say, but at least it makes Jefferson laugh softly. “And you give me way too much credit.”

“I think you just underestimate yourself,” Jefferson sighs, his lips finding Brock’s throat for a soft kiss before pulling back. Brock shrugs, watching his rough fingers trail through Jefferson’s dark curls, smooth and fine. “I love you.”

Brock feels his heart skip a beat at the little whisper, and a smile curls on his face as he leans down so they can share a soft kiss. It languishes for longer than he’d intended, Jefferson’s lips pressing up readily against his own, sweet as ever when he opens to brush their tongues together. Just barely, just enough to send a shiver down Brock’s spine.

“I love you too.”

******

Jefferson makes a call to the doctor’s office the next morning, with Brock holding his hand over the kitchen table as he stumbles through his answers to the seemingly never-ending questions. Brock can’t do anything but nod encouragingly and stroke the back of Jefferson’s hand every time the omega sends a nervous look his way. Part of him wishes he could just take the phone and handle everything himself, just so Jefferson doesn’t have to worry. 

But an alpha making decisions like that for an omega? Not exactly a line he’s looking to cross.

Finally, Jefferson gives an affirmative nod and thanks whoever’s on the other line before rapidly dropping his phone on the table and scrubbing a hand through his hair. “God I hate phonecalls…” he groans.

“I know the feeling,” Brock nods. “So what’s the verdict? Will they see you?”

“Yeah,” Jefferson sighs. “But not for three weeks.”

“Well that’s not too bad.” More or less what he’d expected from a specialist like that, but Jefferson’s lips are twisting into a frown.

“But that means I have to go through another heat…” 

Brock sighs when Jefferson looks down, the look of displeasure still deeply set in his soft face. “Yeah,” Brock shrugs, biting his lip as he struggles for something to say. “But at least that means you’ll be in a good week when we go? You always have better moods the first couple weeks after.”

Jefferson nods, but his mouth twists again and his eyes scrunch up painfully. For a moment Brock thinks he’s going to cry before he finally blurts out: “I’m so sick of having ‘bad weeks’ and ‘good weeks’. I just want to have…weeks.” He drags a hand through his hair again, closing his eyes as he pulls roughly at his curls. “I just want to have a life…”

“I know, beautiful,” Brock sighs. He reaches up to gently untangle Jefferson’s fingers from his hair, holding both the omega’s hands on the table between them. Jefferson lets out a little, shuddering breath, his shoulders hunched and head lowered. When he raises his head, Brock finds himself pinned under searching grey eyes. 

“You know how I told you about that doctor? The one who said I should just find an alpha to take care of me?” When Brock nods, Jefferson hesitates, biting his lip. “Well…I knew that was silly, but…I guess I still kind of, harbored this hope that once I did find someone, it would all just get better.” He shakes his head, but a little smile tugs the corner of his mouth. “And then I met you…”

Brock smiles, apologetic. “And I wasn’t the magical healing charm you’d expected me to be?”

“Yeah,” Jefferson laughs softly. “But, uh, more than that…” His gaze falls to their joined hands, and his smile softens a little as he glides a soft thumb over Brock’s rough palm. “If I can be brutally honest, I never expected to live all that long, so I never really saw a point in trying to find any sort of treatment, because, you know…it was only a matter of time before I…”

“Before you…what?” Brock presses. Jefferson just smiles sadly, and Brock feels his stomach drop when he sees the omega’s eyes have gone all misty.

“It was only a matter of time before I either ended my own life, or I finally got into bed with the wrong alpha who’d do it for me.” He covers the scars on his neck with one hand, and his breath catches in his throat so his next words only barely make it out around a weak sob. “I was sure I’d be d-dead before I made twenty-five…”

Jefferson’s other hand flies to cover his mouth, like he’s shocked by his own words, and Brock almost knocks over the table with how fast he gets up as soon as he sees tears spill from Jefferson’s eyes. He’s on his knees before he even has time to think, wrapping Jefferson up in his arms and pulling him to the edge of his chair to press him close, as close as he can manage. Jefferson’s arms are around him in seconds too, and his whole body’s trembling as he nuzzles into Brock’s hair. “I’m sorry…” he murmurs.

“Don’t be,” Brock sighs. “Don’t be…” He brushes back a few dark curls so he can press kisses along Jefferson’s collarbone. “I know what you mean, about just surviving, not thinking you had any kind of future.”

Jefferson nods weakly, wiping at his eyes as he leans back. “What changed it for you?”

“I don’t know really,” Brock shrugs. “Getting into the army, I guess, having something to focus on.”

Jefferson smiles, his hands gliding gently through Brock’s hair. “You’re what changed it for me,” he murmurs. Brock manages a little grin, even though the words settle heavily on his chest. “You reminded me that I could have a life…and now I just want to be able to live that life as best I could.”

“Christ, baby…” Brock groans, hiding his face in Jefferson’s chest. No fucking pressure… Jefferson just giggles, burying his face in Brock’s hair again to press a kiss to the top of his head.

“I just mean that you reminded me what it felt like to be happy,” he whispers. “And I don’t want anything standing in the way of that.”

Brock nods slightly, glancing up again. “Well that’s why we’re doing this,” he smiles. “And in the meantime…well, you aren’t too unhappy, right?”

Jefferson shakes his head. “Far from it.”

“Good.” Brock stretched up a little so he can kiss Jefferson’s lips, pressing him in tight again. “And don’t worry about your heat. I’ll take care of you, just like always.”

“I know,” Jefferson sighs, kissing back softly. “You know I trust you.”

If only it were that easy…

It’s not that Jefferson’s heat is a particularly bad one. In fact it’s pretty mild. No screaming, no throwing things. But it’s watching the light leave Jefferson’s eyes, little by little. A silent pain, that Brock can only glimpse when tears build in those deep grey eyes, seemingly out of nowhere as Jefferson wraps himself up tightly in the bed and whimpers into his pillow as Brock pets his hair, and begs to know if there’s anything wrong, anything he can do. Jefferson has no answer, and realizing that only serves to bring more tears.

Brock stops asking, focuses instead on keeping Jefferson fed and hydrated and clean. Rested is something he can’t help. Neither of them sleeps very much. Brock dozes off occasionally, but always wakes feeling guilty when he sees Jefferson still staring at the ceiling while his fidgety hands pick at the blanket. He knows Jefferson laid there all night like that, his body too tired to move, his mind to busy to sleep.

When he’s awoken one night, late in the week, by a weak whimpering, the scent hanging heavy in the air tells him where he’s needed, and, as he rolls over and comes in contact with Jefferson’s sweaty, burning skin, his heart breaks at the tearful, hazy eyes that struggle meet his own.

“I’m sorry,” Jefferson whimpers, his body quivering as he squirms against the blankets that are overheating him. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I can’t—”

“It’s alright,” Brock murmurs, hushing Jefferson softly with kisses across his cheeks and neck as he frees Jefferson’s slick body from the sheets. “I’m right here, what do you need?”

“Touch me,” Jefferson pleads, reaching for Brock’s hand and guiding it down between his legs. He’s shivering now, and his whole body jolts when Brock’s fingers ease into him. “Please…”

“I know, baby,” Brock sighs, shifting to press closer when Jefferson tugs at him again. He works his fingers in and out slowly, laying little kisses along Jefferson’s neck as the omega squirms and whimpers, arching to press down against Brock’s hand and turning his head to present his neck.

“Please,” he asks again, his nails digging into Brock’s arm. “Please, I want your mark.”

Brock sighs heavily and, just like every other time, shakes his head. “Not like this, beautiful,” he murmurs, and he feels Jefferson’s plaintive whine like a knife in his chest.

It’s over within twenty-four hours. Jefferson’s eyes clear and he sleeps peacefully through the night, eating healthily when he wakes. When Brock kisses him, he kisses back enthusiastically, with sweetness and giggles against the alpha’s lips.

Brock’s not sure which one of them is more relieved. 

******

Why do all waiting rooms smell the same?

The questions rolls around in Brock’s mind as he resists the urge to hold his breath until they’re out of here, his nose stinging with the scent of sterile plastic and old magazines. Jefferson’s got one hand tightly clasped with Brock’s own, squeezing viciously as he readjusts in his seat every thirty seconds. 

“Baby, I love you, but I’d also like to keep feeling in my hand.”

“Sorry,” Jefferson sighs, quickly loosening his hold. “I’m just nervous.”

Brock nods. “Honestly? Me too.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I mean…” Brock shrugs. “I know it’s a big deal for you, but it could be a big deal for both of us, you know?”

He glances up to see Jefferson smiling softly. “I hope so.”

“Jefferson?”

Jefferson’s head whips around when a polite voice calls his name, and he stands just as quickly, pulling at his sweater awkwardly with his free hand as he leads Brock towards the front of the room. The nurse who’d called them is older, a beta, but bright-faced with kind eyes that crinkle around the edges when she smiles agreeably at Brock before returning her attention to Jefferson.

“Will he be joining you for your appointment?”

“Yes,” Jefferson nods, his voice tiny and shy. Brock can’t help but slide a protective arm around his waist. “That’s ok, right?”

“Perfectly ok,” the nurse nods. “And fairly common, so don’t worry.”

Jefferson manages a little smile, tucking himself closer to Brock’s side as they head down a claustrophobically pastel hallway to a smaller room, where Brock’s forced to extricate himself from Jefferson’s hold while the nurse checks him out. It’s only basic stuff: temperature, blood pressure, but even that has Jefferson fidgeting nervously. And when the nurse tells him to lay back and lift up his shirt, Brock’s certain Jefferson’s about to lose all his nerve, the omega’s gaze darting over to Brock anxiously as he bites his lip.

“Do you want him over here?” the nurse asks softly. Jefferson nods immediately, reaching out his hand towards Brock, who gets up to take that outstretched hand, stroking it gently. Instantly, a little bit of ease comes back to Jefferson’s body as he smiles up at Brock, before flinching when the nurses hands touch his stomach.

“Sorry if my hands are cold.”

“It’s ok,” Jefferson shrugs, squeezing Brock’s hand as he forces a deep breath.

“Do doctors’ offices make you nervous?”

“Is it that easy to tell?”

“I see it a lot,” the nurse sighs. “Especially with male omegas like yourself.”

Jefferson gives a confused frown, but his eyes blink wider with interest. “Really?”

“Yeah, most of them were brought to so many doctors as teenagers that they grew to hate it, or even be afraid because they weren’t treated right,” the nurse sighs, shifting her hands a bit to Jefferson’s lower stomach. “Because even in this day and age people don’t realize that male omegas are completely normal.” Jefferson nods a little and the nurse smiles softly before continuing. “But you’re here about your heat, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” Jefferson sighs. “It’s, um…well it’s really intense. I can’t work while I’m on it…almost everything is really hard.” 

“I’ve heard of cases like that before,” the nurse nods. “Don’t worry, just explain everything to the doctor, and she’ll do everything she can to help you.” She moves away, pulling off her plastic gloves. “Physically, you seem just fine. Your doctor should be here in just a few minutes.” She pats Jefferson’s knee lightly. “Take care, hon.”

“Thank you,” Jefferson smiles, and Brock nods in agreement, kissing Jefferson’s forehead lightly once they’re alone.

“You doing ok?”

Jefferson nods and smiles. “I hope the doctor’s that nice.”

“Hopefully,” Brock nods. “See, you don’t really need me here, I’m just decorative.”

“But you are a very pretty decoration,” Jefferson giggles, kissing Brock lips lightly. “And I do need you here. You make me feel safe.”

“Happy to help,” Brock grins, stealing one more kiss before there’s a knock on the door.

“Come in,” Jefferson says, just barely loud enough to be heard through the door. A slim woman enters the room a few moments later, and when she extends her hand for a handshake, Brock catches a faint omega scent on her fair skin.

“Hi,” she smiles. “I’m Dr. Cho, you must be Jefferson?”

“Yes,” Jefferson answers as he shakes her hand, his face glowing with a smile. “I’m sorry, you probably have to hear this all the time, but I didn’t think you’d be…like me.”

“It’s alright,” Dr. Cho chuckles. “I do get it a lot, but I think most everyone’s well meaning.I think it’s easier to answer personal questions when the person you’re talking to is someone you can identify with, and there aren’t enough omegas in my profession.” She glances at Brock as she shakes his hand as well. “Are you two mates?”

“No,” Jefferson answers, blushing fiercely as Brock struggles to keep something resembling a polite smile on his face. “No, we’re just dating.”

“My mistake, usually the couples we get are already bonded,” she apologizes, opening the file in her hand. “But it’s nice to see such a supportive boyfriend.” 

Jefferson nods, smiling at Brock. “He’s good to me like that.” 

In seconds, they’ve launched into a detailed account of Jefferson cycles, from the time he was a teenager until the present. Brock mostly stays quiet, just continuing to hold Jefferson’s hand as he stumbles through explanations of his symptoms, looking to Brock for a reassuring nod every few minutes or so, or asking for confirmation when he reaches a blank spot in his memory. His voice wavers from time to time—when he describes how he sought out partners completely unaware, how he feels lost and helpless before he blacks out—but he keeps his cool remarkably well. Brock can’t help being a little proud.

Finally, Dr. Cho is out of questions, and offers a smile as she nods and closes the file. Jefferson rests his head on Brock’s shoulder. “So is there anything that can help?”

“There is actually,” Dr. Cho replies, and Jefferson bolts upright. Brock’s not sure whether his smile is for the good news, or for Jefferson’s eagerness. Maybe both. “What you suffer from isn’t exactly common, only occurs in about eight percent of omegas, but we’ve made a lot of progress in the past few years in developing a treatment. Currently, there’s only one that’s been released onto the general market, but it’s successful for almost all patients.”

“There’s got to be some catch,” Jefferson sighs, voicing the main thought in Brock’s mind. Such an easy fix…it can’t be possible, right?

“Well, it is a little expensive, seventy-five dollars a month, and insurance doesn’t usually cover it,” she explains.

“That’s not so bad,” Jefferson sighs. “I think I can manage.”

“Other than the price, some people do experience some mild side effects: headaches, nausea, dizzyness, the usual list for hormonal medications,” she adds. “But for the most part, those side effects are nothing compared to what they’d experienced unmedicated.”

Jefferson’s trying so hard to stay collected. Brock can feel it in the tight grip on his hand, and the little quiver of brightness in the omega’s voice. “So it is a pill, or…?”

“It’s a monthly injection, taken the week before your heat is scheduled to start,” Dr. Cho replies. “You’re fairly regular, so that shouldn’t be too much trouble to plan.” Jefferson sighs again.

“That’s the catch…” he chuckles. “I hate needles.”

The doctor looks apologetic. “Maybe in the future we’ll develop a pill form, but for now, I’m afraid the injection is the best we can offer.”

“I guess I’ll survive,” Jefferson smiles, looking up at Brock. “One little shot, it’s a small price to pay.”

“Sounds like a pretty good deal to me,” Brock nods, kissing Jefferson’s forehead when the omega ducks down shyly. 

“I do have to explain a few things,” Dr. Cho interjects, drawing Jefferson’s attention again. “Just the basics: this doesn’t prevent illness and it isn’t a contraceptive, but it hasn’t shown any evidence of interacting negatively with birth control, so if you’d like to look at those options again in the future, it shouldn’t be a problem.”

“Ok,” Jefferson nods.

“And, since this is something I get questions about a lot, it also shouldn’t prevent you from bonding…” she glances to Brock, and then back. “Just in case that’s something you two have any interest in.”

Jefferson blushes a brilliant pink once again and Brock has to bite his tongue. Why is the issue of bonding around every corner these days? There’s amusement twinkling in the doctor’s eyes as her gaze flicks back and forth between them.

“Not that it’s any of my business, I’m just giving you the facts.”

“Of course,” Jefferson nods, looking up at Brock with a look that he can’t read, and that disappears almost immediately. Brock tries to forget it just as quickly. “So do I have to come in every month for the injection?”

“You can, if that’s easier, or you can purchase a six month supply and we’ll show you how to give yourself each dose. After that, you can just get refills every six months,” the doctor smiles. “But it is our policy that you get the first dose here.”

“Ok,” Jefferson smiles. “I’ll probably have to come in, I don’t think I could stick a needle in my own arm.”

“It’d be your hip actually,” Dr. Cho corrects. “But I understand your squeamishness, don’t worry. Now how about we get your next appointment scheduled so we can get your treatment started.”

******

Jefferson wears a smile all the way back home, giddy and even a little giggly at the prospect of a new beginning. Brock finds himself smiling too, every time he looks at Jefferson, gleaning that infectious happiness from him. 

It’s when he looks away that the trouble starts, the wheels in his mind turning over and over this idea that the entire world seems to be shoving at him about bonding with Jefferson. As if it’s nothing. Or worse, as if he’s somehow obligated to change both their lives, both their minds at a chemical level, just because they’ve been living together…sleeping together… 

He tries to shove those thoughts away once they’re back in their apartment, where Jefferson winds his arms around his neck.

“I keep thinking I’m going to wake up,” he sighs, big blue eyes shimmering behind his lashes. “I can’t believe this is really happening.” 

“Must be a big weight off your shoulders, ” Brock nods, threading his fingers through Jefferson’s hair. 

“God, that doesn’t even begin to cover it.” Jefferson presses in closer, resting his head on Brock’s shoulder. When Brock hears a weak little sniffle, he sighs.

“Happy tears?”

“Uh-huh,” Jefferson manages before another sniffle chokes him and he buries his face in Brock’s neck to muffle the sounds. “I-I never thought—”

He doesn’t finish, but Brock nods anyway, petting Jefferson’s hair now. “Never thought you’d find a treatment.”

“Never thought I could be normal.” Jefferson laughs softly, shaking his head as he wipes away a few stray tears. “I don’t have to lose my mind once a month, you don’t have to wrangle me. I won’t forget entire pieces of my life…” He beams at Brock with those eyes still glistening. “We can just be normal.”

“Normal…” Brock repeats as Jefferson launches into his arms and clings to him again. So much fixation on that word… He tips his head to press a kiss to Jefferson’s temple, breathing in his scent and letting the familiar calm that comes with it wash over him.

“I love you,” Jefferson whispers. “I love you so much.”

“Love you, too, beautiful,” Brock nods, stroking his hand along Jefferson’s cheek when he leans back. “Want me to make us something to eat, before I have to go to work?”

“My sweetheart cooking for me?” Jefferson grins. “How could I say no?”

Their most recent discovery is a shared love of pasta, so Brock doesn’t hesitate to make Jefferson’s favorite, with plenty of herbs and cheeses since Jefferson’s not all that fond of meat. They enjoy their meal on the couch, with the tv playing in the background. Comfortable, easy.

And then, out of nowhere, once they’ve finished eating, Jefferson turns down the volume on the television, sitting up and tucking his legs underneath him as he looks at Brock.

“Oh god,” Brock chuckles, making light as best he can. That face of uncertainty doesn’t bode well for him. The second time in a month. “What is it?” Jefferson bites his lip.

“I-I just wanted to ask you about something…”

“Ok,” Brock nods, watching Jefferson’s hands flutter uncertainly around a lock of his hair. 

“I was just wondering what you thought about what the doctor said, about us and…bonding.”

Brock groans under his breath, leaning forward and scrubbing his face with his hands. “Fuck, I’m getting it from all sides…”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I just mean it seems like everyone’s bringing it up these days,” he shrugs. “Jack, you, and now that doctor.”

Jefferson blushes deeply. “Well then you’ve had time to think about it?”

“I’ve had time to think about the fact that I don’t get what the big deal is,” Brock mutters. “I mean, we’ve got a good thing, why change it?”

“To be closer?” Jefferson offers. Brock feels guilt twist in his stomach at the hurt on Jefferson’s face. “I mean, every time I mention it, you always say ‘not tonight’ or ‘not like this’—”

“You can remember asking me while you’re in heat?” The only other time they’ve discussed it was their first time, and that wasn’t much of a discussion.

“Yeah,” Jefferson shrugs. “Not every time, I don’t think, just when I get little flashes of clarity. And you say it like there’s a right way to do it, or like you already think you know when it should happen.”

“Well, you know, there’s that whole ritual that you can do,” Brock replies, evading. “You know, where—”

“Where you’re supposed to bathe me and feed me and promise to care for me so I can promise myself to you? That ritual?” Jefferson snaps, making Brock flinch.

“Would’ve thought you’d be into that, since you love being romantic,” he mutters.

“I am into it,” Jefferson hisses, frustration flooding between them. “I’m into it every time you do it, while I’m in heat.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Oh my god, Brock, _think_ ,” Jefferson pleads. “All those steps: bathing together, eating together, the way you hold me and tell me you love me before I just come apart…” He trails off and his hand clasps over his neck—the left side, not the right where he’s scarred, the side he always presents—rubbing harshly. “You’re going through all the steps, multiple times over, every time I’m in heat, and it _hurts_ me when you don’t follow through.” 

Brock doesn’t know what to say. What is there to say? “I…” he can’t finish the sentence, whatever it might’ve been. He never meant to hurt Jefferson.

“Don’t you feel it too?” Jefferson whispers. “That…electricity and pull when you’re knotted in me?”

“Y-yeah?” Brock shrugs. He’d been lying if he said he didn’t. It is almost painful to resist the urge to— “That doesn’t mean we have to act on it.”

“But why shouldn’t we?” Jefferson asks. “When we both feel the same draw and it hurts to deny it?”

“Because we’ve only known each other a few months?” Brock argues. He turns, taking Jefferson’s hand in his own, insistent. “Bonding’s permanent, you get that, right? It would change, physically change, both of us. A lot. Do you really think it’s a good idea to try something like that when we haven’t even been together all that long?”

Jefferson looks away, digging his fingers into his neck. “Why do we have to wait if we can both feel that it’s the right thing?”

“This isn’t some fairytale,” Brock mutters, his voice edging into scolding. “Don’t be childish…”

“You think me being in love with you is childish?”

“No,” Brock sighs, cut by the bite in Jefferson’s voice. “No, I just…” He groans under his breath. “I’m just saying that you thinking we can just magically know that it’s right for us to bond after only a few months—”

“I knew the first time you made love to me,” Jefferson interrupts. “That night, when you made love to me while I was in heat, then got nervous when I tried to kiss you. I knew from the way you touched me and cared for me that we’d be able to bond one day.”

“Fucking hell…” Brock sighs. That night, of all nights… “You didn’t know me. You just…I just gave you something you hadn’t had before.” He shakes his head. “Sometimes I think the only reason you’re with me is because you’ve never known anything better.” 

Jefferson makes a little sound, a gasp that almost seems to have been punched out of him. When Brock sees those big eyes boring into him, he can’t seem to shut up, though whether he’s trying to make it better or worse, he doesn’t even know.

“I mean, haven’t you ever considered that?” he asks. “How do you know you’re really in love with me? Maybe I’m not this perfect mate that you seem to think I am. Maybe I was just convenient.”

“Is ‘convenient’ all I am to you?” Jefferson cries. He rips his hand out of Brock’s, moving back from him. “Are you not really in love with me?”

“No, I am,” Brock sighs, looking down. He is, of course he is, but is that enough? “But you’re young…and inexperienced. You need to think about this a little more.”

Jefferson’s voice catches in a little whimper, and Brock’s stomach twists as tears roll onto the omega’s cheeks. He shoves himself up off the couch and Brock follows, wincing when Jefferson faces him with a teary glare, arms folded tight across his chest. “Maybe I should do my thinking at my apartment.” 

That hits like a rock in Brock’s stomach. “Come on, baby, you don’t mean that—”

“Don’t ‘baby’ me,” Jefferson snaps, shoving Brock’s hand away when he tries to reach for him. The omega’s eyes are steely now. “Don’t baby me.”

Before Brock can get another word in, Jefferson grabs his bag and storms into the bedroom. In the few minutes it takes for him to return, Brock’s gone numb with shock.

“You’re really gonna walk out?” 

Jefferson whips around to face him, more tears raking lines down his splotched red face.

“Yes. I am,” he says, his voice shaky, but certain. Something broils in Brock’s chest as the words settle in, like acid, painfully twisting his stomach, crawling out onto his skin, and up out of his throat where it turns to venom. 

“So, what?” Brock hisses. “You’ll just text me next month when you decide you need me again?”

He realizes his mistake when Jefferson’s hand connects with his cheek, a cry tearing out of Jefferson when their skin makes contact. Like Jefferson's the one being hit. It’s not very hard, the hand is too soft and gentle for that, but it’s enough to leave a sting and a point.

“I didn’t—”

“Shut up!” Jefferson shouts, nearly hysterical now around gasping sobs. He stumbles back a few steps towards the door. “I won’t need you anymore, you know. I can be normal and healthy without you! A-and—” A sob stifles his voice, and he has to steady himself, clasping the doorknob determinedly. “And if you’re right, and I never really loved you, then I won’t need to come back to you ever again.”

Brock doesn’t even try to argue as Jefferson runs out, slamming the door behind him. It’s as if all the warmth in the apartment rushes out with him, and instantly the burning acid in Brock chest turns to ice, leaving him cold and alone in the silence. He lets his eyes fall shut, and thrusts his heel against the back of the couch. A real pain this time, for a real punishment. 

They’ve always been volatile. Volatile and poorly matched.

It was only a matter of time.


	9. Chapter 9

Everything is numb.

Numb as Brock robotically gets dressed and drives to work, less than an hour after watching Jefferson storm out of their apartment. It’s already surreal, like the memory of a dream.

Numb as he roots himself next to the club’s door, looking at, but failing to actually see, the faces of the people passing by him. All noise is reduced to a dull whine, like flies that he doesn’t even have the heart to wave away.

Numb until the end of his shift when he sits down at the bar, where Natasha takes one look at him and drags him out the side door, demanding to know what happened.

He doesn’t tell her. He can’t, not yet. But she sees it in his eyes before they squeeze shut, and there’s no doubt she can feel it in the way his body begins to shake. When his legs give out from underneath him, she comes down as well, her hands cupping his head before he has a chance to slam it into the brick wall behind him. 

“I messed up, Nat…” His voice is unrecognizable, weak and scared like a child’s. His arms around her little waist feel so foreign, but she doesn’t resist, and right now, he’ll take whatever he can get. In turn, Natasha’s voice is in his ear, telling him to breathe, telling him it’s alright.

He doesn’t believe her, and he doesn’t want to obey. 

It’s not quite clear in his memory how long it took for Natasha to pry him off the ground, but somehow she does manage it, and, at her insistence, Brock allows her to drive him home. Not like he’s in any shape to do so himself, not with his hands still shaking and his eyes going unfocused and blurry every few seconds.

Much to his surprise, Natasha also spends the night on his couch. And when he wakes up the next morning, she’s perched on the edge of his bed.

The space beside him is empty.

“I made coffee,” Natasha sighs. Brock’s attempt at a smile ends up more of a grimace as he sits up. That empty side of the bed is glaring at him. “Get cleaned up, I’ll be in the kitchen.” All Brock can do is nod. 

When she leaves the room, he reaches out to rest his hand on Jefferson’s pillow, which apparently didn’t get snatched in the omega’s mad rush to get away from him. The soft fabric is just as cold as it appeared as his hand clamps around it, and Brock almost goes right back to sleep, as if waking up a second time would produce a different result.

With great effort, he does manage to get up and go through the motions of getting ready—shower, clothes, running a hand through his damp hair because he doesn’t have the heart to do anything else with it—then stumbles to his seat at the kitchen table, not resisting when Natasha wedges a warm mug between his limp hands. 

“Drink.”

The hot coffee burns his tongue and throat with the first sip, making the second one tasteless. He doesn’t even flinch.

“Do you want to tell me what happened?”

“No,” he croaks.

“Will you tell me anyway?”

It takes a moment, the explanation doesn’t want to come, and his voice is stilted as it claws its way out of his throat. 

“We had a fight.” It sounds so petty when he hears it out loud…

“What about?”

Brock swallows thickly. “He wanted to bond with me, I thought we should wait.”

“That seems prudent,” Natasha nods, but there’s a hint of concern in her voice that makes Brock glance up to meet her gaze. “But Jefferson doesn’t seem the type to walk out on you just because you aren’t ready to take the next step.”

Once again, Brock’s eyes fall, his gaze swimming through the dark coffee between his hands. “I also said some things that I shouldn’t have…” He hears Natasha sigh, but when she doesn’t say anything else, he continues. “I told him he was childish for thinking he could ‘know’ that we were meant to be mates.”

“Ah…” Natasha hums in understanding, sipping from her own mug. “There’s something else, isn’t there?”

Brock bites his tongue. Something he should have done last night. “Well…when he said he was going back to his place, I was kinda—I don’t know—in shock, I guess?”

“Understandable.”

Brock winces. “But I, um…I asked him if I should just ‘wait until next month for him to text me when he needs me’.”

Natasha’s disappointment is audible in her sharp inhale. Brock feels it prick in the corners of his eyes. “Excellent wording,” she mutters.

“Come on, Tasha…” he groans. “I don’t need it from you, too.”

Natasha waves her hand apologetically, sipping at her coffee again. “Sorry,” she amends. Brock shrugs, gripping his mug a little tighter.

“Not like I’d even get a text, since we…he…” he corrects, clearing his throat roughly. “Since he found a doctor who can treat him.” He shakes his head. Things had been so good. Perfect, even. Leave it to him to ruin something like that in the span of about five minutes.

“So what are you going to do?”

“He slapped me across the face and told me he didn’t need me anymore before running out of my apartment,” Brock sighs. “I don’t think I should do anything.”

Natasha winces, just subtly, a vague parody of what Brock’s own reaction had been the night before. At least he’s not entirely alone. “Maybe not right now,” she agrees, though it sounds more like an admission of defeat as she leans back in her chair. “Just give it time. I think you two can work it out.”

Brock doesn’t even dare to voice how much he hopes that’s true. Doesn’t want to risk jinxing it. Jefferson had been so upset; he doesn’t know how to fix that. He nods, but it feels like a lie.

He looks up again, and finds deep green eyes misted over with a look he’s never seen on Natasha’s face before. She glides her hands through her hair, gathering it up in a band she slips from her wrist. Brock notices for the first time that her face is washed clean of the makeup she’d had on the night before. Makes her look a hell of a lot younger than she usually does. 

Guilt nudges at his stomach. She doesn’t need this. She’s happy…

“Bet you’re wishing you’d never asked what was wrong,” he mutters. 

“Hardly,” she smiles, resting her chin on her hands. “But I was thinking that you need somebody to really talk to, and that somebody may not be me.”

“Only so much you can do for a fuck-up like me, right?”

“Well…some situations require a more practiced hand than what I think I’m capable of,” she sighs. Brock nods. He’ll probably text Jack later.

“Is Maria going to be wondering where you are?”

Natasha shakes her head, tapping her nails along the side of her mug. “I told her I’d be here, she understands.”

“Still, you should get back to her. No need to mess up your morning over me.”

“Are you gonna be ok if I do go?”

“Probably,” Brock sighs. “ There’s only so much trouble I can get into here, right?”

Natasha rolls her eyes. “Oh I have faith in you,” she murmurs. “Can I at least finish my coffee before you kick me out?”

“‘Course, Nat,” he replies, managing a little smile as he takes another drink. “Are you gonna enable me by adding something a little stronger to this?”

“Not a chance.” She rolls her eyes, propping her feet up on the table as Brock shrugs.

“Worth a shot, at least…” 

Time passes, and eventually Natasha says her goodbyes and gets up, rubbing Brock’s shoulder as she passes behind him to get to the door. “Take care of yourself, alright?” she murmurs. 

“I’ll do my best.” But promising even that much seems like more than he can manage.

The warmth from Natasha’s touch fades quickly, and the numbness returns, lingering and growing deeper when, a few days later, Jefferson’s things begin to disappear from their apartment…

His apartment?

It’s almost funny. This apartment was ‘his’ for years, and it’s been ‘theirs’ for just a few months, yet calling it ‘his’ again seems almost impossible.

But Jefferson’s things disappear, nonetheless. Whenever Brock’s away at work, he comes home to empty spaces on tables and gaps in the closet. It’s only ever a few things at a time, like Jefferson’s coming and only taking what he can manage to carry on his own. 

A coat, a few books, his pillow, his mug… 

It’s impossible to miss the holes in what was their life, especially when Brock’s been keeping the apartment so orderly.

So he stops. Lets dust and dirty clothes and used dishes pile up around him.

It’s rock bottom for him, and he knows it.

He doesn’t care.

Because he can still see Jefferson’s things disappearing.

A few scarves, a box of tea, a pair of shoes, the lavender lotion he would put on sometimes after a shower…

Brock stops leaving his apartment for anything other than necessity.

******

“Get up.”

Jack’s order is punctuated by a pillow slapping against Brock’s head, slamming him into consciousness with a groan.

“Fuck off,” he mutters, not even bothering to move the pillow from over his head. “I gave you key for emergencies, not so you could be a fucking drill sergeant.” 

“This is an emergency,” Jack says as Brock hears the curtains being ripped open and the lights getting flicked on. When Jack yanks the pillow back from his face, Brock groans again at the assault of brightness against his eyelids. “This place is a mess, you’ve got nothing to eat anywhere, and you haven’t changed your clothes in a week. And from the smell, I’d believe you haven’t showered in just as long”

“I’m going to punch you in the damn throat,” Brock warns.

“I hope you do,” Jack snaps. “At least it’d be something other than the sulking.”

“I just got dumped, I’ve earned my sulking.” At least, he’s pretty sure he got dumped? He’s still not sure where he and Jefferson stand. They haven’t talked since—

“Not to this extreme,” Jack mutters. “Now get the fuck up.” 

Jack directs the next strike with the pillow between Brock’s shoulder blades. Sharp, and harsh enough to sting. It rips a growl out of Brock, but he still doesn’t budge.

“What’s your problem?” he mutters, peeking one eye open.

“You are my problem,” Jack sighs. “You, being all fucking pitiful over some guy, is my fucking problem.”

That strikes a cord. An ugly one.

Brock snarls and launches up, tackling Jack to the floor and holding him by the collar as he lands a punch square on the alpha’s scarred jaw.

“Don’t talk about him like that!” he hisses. And then, just like that, he deflates with a bitter, choked breath, all the fight gone from him once again. Jack almost looks disappointed when Brock’s fist falls and his grip loosens. “He’s not some guy…”

“But it got you up, didn’t it?” Jack sighs. Brock curls his lip.

“So that was just a cheap ploy to get me out of bed?”

“Desperate times,” Jack shrugs. “We’re worried about you, ok?”

Brock doesn’t even have the energy to stay pissed about that, but for show he scoffs, rolling off Jack and staring at the ceiling as he props his feet against the side of the bed. Jack does the same, and for a few moments they just lay there, looking completely ridiculous, Brock’s sure.

“Well, I’m up, alright?” he mutters. “Now give me one reason why I shouldn’t get right back into bed after I break your nose and kick you out on your ass.”

“Such a drama queen,” Jack snorts, rolling his eyes before letting out a heavy breath, rubbing a hand along his jaw as he stretches it out gingerly. “Nat found you a shrink. And now you need to be a big boy and make your own appointment.” He digs into his pocket, pulling out a business card and dropping it on Brock’s chest.

Brock frowns, picking up the little white card and scanning the tiny black print. “What do I need a shrink for?” Then Natasha’s words come back to him, about needing a practiced hand…

“Won’t get out of bed, won’t eat, won’t shower,” Jack rattles off. “And that’s just the new stuff.”

“Rhetorical question, Jack,” Brock mutters, flipping the card between his fingers. Jack’s not wrong, though, and Natasha probably isn’t either. He knows it’s bad. 

Fuck, he’s actually considering seeing a therapist. It’s gotta be bad…

“I’m just saying…” Jack sighs. “Look, I’m sorry you’re going through a bad time with your boy, but you can’t just keep this up.”

“Why not?” Brock asks petulantly.

“Because Nat and I won’t let you,” Jack mutters. “Now go take a fucking shower. You’re killing me.”

Brock cocks a little smile at that, his first one in weeks as he pushes himself up, setting the business card on the bedside table. “Sorry I punched you,” he mumbles.

“No blood, no foul,” Jack shrugs, getting up as well. “We’ll chalk it up to you being in rut.”

Brock laughs, dry and humorless. There’s a reason he’s been trying to sleep this week away. Every time he pays even the slightest bit of attention to his body, Jefferson’s all that fills his mind. His heatscent, his voice, the softness of his skin under Brock’s rough hands. He swears he can almost hear Jefferson’s asking for him, and even if he’s sure it’s just his mind playing tricks, every inch of him begs to answer that call. He’s never ached like this during his peak before. It’s like he’s going through withdrawal.

“That means it’s Jefferson’s week, too…” he murmurs, glancing over at Jack.

“I know,” the other alpha sighs. “Tasha went with him to the doctor. He got his shot and he’s doing fine.”

Brock’s caught between a relieved sigh and sob, and all that comes out is another weak chuckle. Jefferson’s fine, without him. Jefferson doesn’t need him.

Even more proof that he’s just losing his mind. 

“At least one of us is ok.” He hears Jack sigh again and glances up. “I know, I’m pathetic.”

“Kinda,” Jack smiles, obviously trying to get Brock to do the same. Brock just drops back down onto the edge of the bed, which earns another intervention.

“No, we talked about this,” Jack insists, grabbing Brock’s upper arm and dragging him to his feet again. “Shower, then you call your new doc, then I find something to feed you. And once that’s all taken care of, you and I are gonna go a few rounds at the gym until you’re acting like yourself again.”

“What are you now, my personal assistant?” Brock groans.

“Until you start assisting yourself again, yeah, I am,” Jack smirks. “Now go.”

Brock’s not above whining as Jack pushes him towards the bathroom, but once he’s in the shower, the hot water does him some good. Might’ve done more if the empty space where Jefferson used to keep his soap hadn’t caught his eye. The sight pricks at the similarly empty space in his chest, keeping him in the shower for far longer than necessary. 

He ends up having to use Jack’s phone to make the call, since his is lying dead on the kitchen counter, nowhere near his charger. But at least the woman who answers the phone sounds agreeable enough. A little stern, but that’ll probably be good for him. He rarely does well being coddled. 

Eating he has no problem with, especially when someone else is paying, but he does put up a fight when Jack insists on going to the gym. “Come on, I’ve got a perfectly good set-up at home…” he whines.

“It’s not the same,” Jack shrugs.

“But it’s just as good.”

“Not really.”

“Why?”

“One, you need to get out of that damn apartment, it’s been weeks,” Jack huffs. “Two, I’ve got nothing else to do today, so really, you’re doing me a favor. And three…” He pauses, shaking his head as his voice quiets, turning a little rougher. “At least I won’t hurt you like you’ll hurt yourself with that bag…or the walls.”

Brock rolls his eyes, but it’s mostly for show as he flexes his hands, both of which have scabs and bruises on the knuckles from where he landed a few punches against mostly unforgiving plaster. He had managed a few dents, too, that he didn’t have the energy to deal with.

“Fine,” he mutters, staring out the window of Jack’s car. “Let’s waste some time.”

Jack’s just quiet for a long time, until he finally murmurs: “You miss him?”

“Every fucking day,” Brock replies, twisting the knife in his own chest.

“You’ll get him back.”

“Don’t say that,” Brock mutters. He’ll waste time if Jack wants, but not on hope. “Let’s just throw some fucking punches, ok?”

Jack sighs. “Ok.”

******

Brock supposes he should be grateful. For once, a doctor’s office that doesn’t suffocate him with the tang sterility. He almost can’t complain about the scent of the leather couch and aging books.

Almost.

“So how are you doing?”

Having been staring at his hands for the past minute, he glances up now at the statuesque woman sitting across from him, her dark hair slicked up into an elaborate knot, her mahogany skin contrasting the deep violet of her silk blouse.

He feels like a damn slob next to her. His sweats were the only clean thing he had to wear…

“Fine,” he shrugs, out of habit. She smiles. Brock sits up a little straighter. 

“You’re not all that comfortable with therapists, are you?”

“Just not all that comfortable with talking about feelings,” Brock mutters.

“Then let’s stick to some basic facts for now,” she says curtly, much to Brock’s relief. “Can I call you Brock?”

“Yeah,” he shrugs. Can’t imagine what else she’d call him… “What should I call you? Doc?”

“If you like,” she chuckles. “My name would also work.”

“Gonna make me be all formal?”

“No, I like people using my first name just fine,” she replies. “Diana.”

“I remember,” Brock nods, but stays quiet when he can’t find anything more to say. His eyes falls to his hands again.

“So tell me about yourself, Brock.”

He shifts a little, thankful that the couch doesn’t make too much noise underneath him, otherwise he might’ve had to start pacing. ‘Tell me about yourself’…his least favorite sentence. Because he’s such a terribly interesting guy… “I, uh…used to be in the army,” he mumbles. “Got injured, got out, and now I’m a bouncer at a nightclub.”

“What sort of injury?”

“Caught the edge of an explosion,” Brock shrugs and rolls up the sleeve of his jacket, just enough to show where the scars begin on his wrist and forearm. No use lying to a shrink. “They go all the way up, and they’re worse on my back,” he explains, quickly shoving his sleeve back down and tucking his arms close around himself once Diana nods. “Never quite recovered fully, so they wouldn’t let me back in.”

“We can talk more about that later, if you want.”

“If I want…” Brock mimics. “Meaning, if you decide it’s something we need to talk about.”

“Well, hopefully, if it’s something we need to talk about, you’ll eventually want to do so,” she smiles. “How about what you do for fun?”

Brock scoffs, but then his teeth find purchase on his lip and he looks down again. 

He knows the answer to this question…he knows he does…

Or, at least, he knows this question has an answer…

“I…uh…” Maybe a few weeks ago he would’ve what that answer is, but now, the silence in his mind is deafening. His brow creases with the effort of trying to hear anything else. He clears his throat. “I-I work out, I guess.” That’s fun, right? At least it can be… The cuts beginning to scar on his knuckles tell a different story. “I don’t know…” he finally admits.

When he glances up again, Diana’s nodding, but her expression isn’t quite as blithely neutral as it had been before.

“That’s bad, right?” he asks. “You’re supposed to know what’s fun for you.”

“Well, not knowing how to answer that question usually does mean you’re not in a good place, emotionally,” she sighs. Brock rolls his eyes at the delicate phrasing. “Is that why you decided to come here?”

Brock shrugs. “I didn’t really decide it myself. My friends sort of…staged an intervention.”

Diana nods, resting her cheek on her hand. “What made them think that was necessary?”

He sucks his tongue over his teeth, clicking it as he struggles for the words. “I kinda stopped leaving my apartment after my…my boyfriend and I…” Christ, he hates that word. Doesn’t even begin to describe what Jefferson meant to him. “We had a fight…”

“A fight?”

“Yeah, a fight.” Brock grinds his teeth a little. “Said some shit I shouldn’t have, what else is new. He and I haven’t spoken since.”

Diana nods, and Brock chews the inside of his cheek as he watches her pencil scribble across the pad she has on her lap. Like he’s some lab specimen. “So what do you mean when you say you ‘kind of’ stopped leaving your apartment?” 

“I mean I ‘kind of’ stopped leaving.” How long does he have to go over the same damn point? “I’d go to work, but other than that, I’d just be in bed. Didn’t feel like doing anything else.”

Diana’s pencil taps, just a touch disapproving, but when Brock sets his jaw, she seems to get the message that he’s not having the run-around of questions. “Why don’t you tell me more about this boyfriend,” she finally amends. “What’s his name?”

Brock’s nerve instantly gone and he response sticks in his throat, bringing a pained grimace to his face. “…Jefferson.” 

“That’s his first name?”

“Yeah.” Brock manages to laugh weakly at that.

“What is it?”

“Nothing,” he sighs, shrugging. “I just said something similar when he first told me his name.”

“Tell me about that,” Diana prompts, smiling a little. “About how you two met.”

He doesn’t want to, but he does. Like a dam breaking, it just pours out of him. How they stumbled into each other at the club, how he knew something was wrong and didn’t care, how he took advantage until he couldn’t anymore—he hates himself for every word of it, but he can’t stop—how it slowly became more until it was overwhelming and they were so tangled up in each other it hurt to breathe. How it hurt and yet still felt perfect…

And finally, how he managed to make it all fall apart in a matter of just a few minutes.

Brock’s out of breath by the time he finishes the whole mess. He’s skin’s hot, tight around his eyes and raw where he can’t stop rubbing his thumb into his palm.

“So now what?” he forces out, chuckling roughly. “You gonna diagnose all the places where we went wrong?”

“I could,” Diana sighs. “But first I want you to take a deep breath and stop hurting yourself.”

The breath Brock manages to suck in is shaky and comes out choked, but his shoulders drop from where they’d been pressed up almost to his ears, and he finds it in himself to let go of his own abused hand. He shakes his head, flopping back against the couch.

“Sounds like you’ve got a lot of guilt surrounding this whole relationship.”

That’s putting it mildly.“I always knew it was only a matter of time before he realized I wasn’t doing him any good,” Brock mutters.

“You said that you haven’t spoken to him since your fight,” Diana continues. “Have you considered talking things through with him, seeing if there’s a chance you can reconcile?”

Brock frowns. “Didn’t you just hear everything I said?” he snaps. “Why would he want to talk to me now?”

“Perhaps because you’ve both had time to calm down, and because things were left rather unfinished,” she replies. Brock’s eyes dart away, scanning a hazy wall of bookshelves. “You came here for advice, right? For help?”

“I guess…?”

“Well, I could give you professional, medical advice about what drugs you can take to change your moods,” she sighs. “Or I could give you some more sensible advice and tell you that you that you need to have a face-to-face, adult conversation with your estranged boyfriend to figure out where you stand and what you both want to do next.”

Brock blinks, then looks down, then blinks again. His tongue skates across his lips as his stomach coils uncomfortably. “And what if he doesn’t want to have the conversation with me?”

“Then at least that’s still an answer about how he feels about you now,” Diana murmurs. “But I think being in limbo like this is eating you.” 

Brock bites his cheek. She’s not wrong. The past few weeks, it’s been like trying to balance on a floor that won’t stop shaking. 

“And if you want my very honest opinion,” she continues, “I think you’re scared about getting an honest answer either way.” Brock narrows his eyes, but Diana doesn’t hesitate. “I think you’re scared he’s going to turn you away, so you’d rather not get any answer at all.”

Brock just about bites through his tongue at that, and he’s sure his indignance shows in his eyes, but Diana just shrugs her shoulders, watching him carefully.

“That’s your doctor’s opinion?” he mutters. 

“That’s my doctor’s opinion.”

Brock rolls his eyes. He wants so badly to argue, but nothing’s coming to mind. Not like he doesn’t know he’s a fucking coward. 

“It’s not that unusual, or shameful, to be afraid in a situation like this,” she adds. “He means a lot to you, the risk of losing him isn’t insignificant.”

Brock rolls his eyes, but nods after a pause, fidgeting his hands again. “Guess all those fancy pieces of paper actually did one of you some good,” he grumbles as he glances over to where various university degrees hang on the wall.

“I like to think so, at least,” Diana nods. Brock snorts. “If you want my advice on your relationship, that’s it. And I think you should make an attempt at talking to Jefferson soon. Once you do that, we’ll have a better idea of how things should progress here.”

Just the thought puts a knot in Brock’s stomach, but niggling voice in the back of his mind tells him it’s the right thing. He rakes a hand through his hair.

“Do you think you can do that?” she asks.

“I don’t fucking know,” he grunts. “I could say yes now, but I don’t know what the answer’s gonna be when I’m outside his building.”

“Well, if you’re anxious about it, you have my number and you can call me anytime for a little moral support,” she nods. “Think you could manage that?”

“Probably,” Brock shrugs. Sounds easy enough, but nothing’s ever easy in practice. 

“Then I think that’s where we should leave off for today,” she says and Brock nods, relieved at how quickly the hour seemed to go by. “Now, how about we schedule your next appointment for a week from today?”

“Sounds fine,” he shrugs. A weeks to try and talk to Jefferson, like a kid with an intimidating homework assignment. The analogy feels more appropriate than he wants to admit. He smiles a little and adds: “You’re not so bad, for a shrink. Not too much bullshit”

“Coming from you, I’ll take that as a very high compliment,” Diana smiles. “Call me anytime, I mean it. We can move your appointment up if need be.”

Brock nods, and he’s shuffled out of her office soon enough. He’s not sure he feels better, exactly…

But hell, it’s something.

He pulls out his phone, texting a ‘thank you’ to Natasha and Jack. They deserve more than that for the way they deal with him.

******

That week goes by faster than he’s expecting, especially considering how each hour seems to drag. He even has the humility to be sheepish when he shows up for his next appointment with his ‘assignment’ incomplete.

Diana doesn’t dwell on that much, however, and they don’t want for anything to talk about. Not once she trips over the magic buzzword “family” and gets an earful of all Brock’s nasty experience in that vein. 

Her responses only half-cling in Brock’s mind while he’s sniveling on her couch, maddeningly small and weak. Words like “forgive yourself” and “it’s not your fault” rub against his ears. All things he’s heard before.

Hearing them reinforced in her voice does help though, for whatever reason. Maybe it’s a maternal thing, but he’s not gonna bother questioning it right now.

What they don’t touch on is the fact that his nightmares are keeping him awake again. Guess that has to be saved for next week, Brock thinks wryly.

It’s not that his nightmares are worse, necessarily, or even more frequent. It’s just that waking up from them to an empty bed is a hell of a lot more traumatic all on it’s own when he’s become so used to gentle hands soothing his tremors and a soft voice whispering away the last few horrible images.

All night he just wants to stay awake to avoid them. And all day just wants to sleep.

At least wanting to scream and rip out his hair is a constant.

He doesn’t give into that, however tempting it may be. Instead, he just starts cleaning again. Though he’s not sure whether or not that’s progress when the tips of his fingers start to go raw and his shoulders ache even with the painkillers he tries taking. The kitchen and bathroom constantly reek of bleach, enough to make his head spin a little when it’s fresh.

Yeah, not an improvement. Just an opposite extreme.

He still leaves the gaps for Jefferson’s things even around his neurotic scrubbing and arranging. Little, troubling gaps on the shelves and counters. The closet’s harder, things shift around daily as he either puts things away or pulls them out, but it’s still noticeably more empty than it was before.

That’s the word for the whole apartment, really, now that damn near everything of Jefferson’s is gone. Empty. He doesn’t know how he ever lived here by himself. He’s drowning in all the spaces he doesn’t know how to fill.

Jack and Natasha do their best, they really do. They drag him out of the apartment every now and then: to the store, to the park, to the gym. Sometimes they just stay over for a little while, offering distraction from Brock’s ugly compulsions. But neither of them really knows how to make it better, and when they ask, Brock has no answer to give them. Barring some miracle of Jefferson contacting him first, he’s got to be the one who acts. Not that he’s having any luck trying to talk himself into that.

He considers calling Diana about it, even hovers his thumb over her name in his phone once or twice, but ends up not following through each time. Doesn’t know what he would say anyhow…“sorry, I’m pathetic and I can’t even work up the nerve to talk to somebody I was living with until just a few weeks ago”? Not an admission he’s dying to make, even to his shrink.

Being stuck in limbo continues to eat at him, just like she said it would. That, and the guilt. He swears he’ll be hollow soon because of it…

******

Considering the frequency with which it happens, you’d think Brock would have grown used to the unique and ironic way the universe likes to fuck with him. But evidently, he can still be surprised.

It’s a Sunday morning when it happens. Their day. Because of course it is. What other day could possibly be more fitting for Brock to pull a shirt off of one of the closet shelves and have a scarf flutter off as well. A quick, colorful stroke through the air that lands delicately in the hand he stretches out.

Bright, silky, with an uneven edge. 

A handmade scarf he’d know anywhere.

The one he carried around with him for a solid week, rubbing his hand against it like a security blanket each time he thought he’d caught a glimpse of dark curls or grey eyes. 

Instantly, a lump wells up in his throat, but around it he manages a weak laugh. 

“Always leaving this damn thing with me…” he murmurs as he threads the scarf through his fingers, a faint scent wafting up as the fabric glides and twists. Soft and pretty…just like his Jefferson always is.

Brock feels something clench in his chest, forcing another pained laugh out of him as he leans back against the wall. Slowly but surely, his knees get weak, sliding him down to the floor. 

‘His Jefferson’. He shakes his head at himself. Jefferson was never really ‘his’. It’s selfish to think he was. But even now there’s a little part of Brock that still hasn’t given up the hope that he could be…

That part is pushing at him now, just like it always does when he catches Jefferson’s scent, or thinks about him for more than a few seconds. It’s been driving him mad for the last few weeks, pushing him to find Jefferson, to say he sorry and beg to be taken back. But the opposition flares up in response just as quickly each time: the part that screams no, he can’t, it’s not worth the risk, not worth the hurt…

At one point, he might’ve called it pride, but now he knows it’s fear. Sickening fear that’s as shameful as it is relentless, putting knots in his stomach and a choking weight on his chest. Fear of rejection…of acceptance…of everything it ever meant to be in love… Because he is so in love. So stupidly, painfully, hopelessly, recklessly in love that every day is a struggle not to tear his own fucking heart out of his chest just so he can stop feeling.

A dry sob retches out of him, aching in his lungs and sour on his tongue as he looks down at the scarf again. Jefferson told him the story behind it once, how it was the first one he ever made, but he loves the fabric so much he doesn’t have the heart to give up the less than perfect result. And now it’s the one thing of Jefferson’s still left in his apartment…

The least he can do now is return it.

It’s almost an epiphany, the way the thought, and soon after the drive to follow through, clicks in his brain.

After everything, the least he can do is return a tiny, sentimental item. One more beautiful thing of Jefferson’s making that Brock’s not going to give himself the chance to ruin.

And even if handing over this scarf a second time might just kill him, at least it’ll offer closure for them both. Save Jefferson the trouble of a final trip tomorrow night, too.

He gets dressed, and the scarf gets carefully folded into the pocket of his jacket, as impossibly heavy as it ever was as he drives towards Jefferson’s building. There’s no hesitation in his body, somehow. He’d expected a fight, but his legs carry him up the familiar stairs, and his arm raises to knock on the plain door. 

Once, twice…until Jefferson’s scent envelops him and Brock thinks he’s going to pass out, just seconds before the door opens.

Jefferson’s so fucking beautiful…

That’s probably shallow of him, especially since it’s the first and only thing to fly through his mind, but he can’t help it. Maybe it’s because he hasn’t seen Jefferson in weeks, but the omega just looks so perfectly, radiantly beautiful that it aches in Brock’s bones. He looks relaxed too, comfortable, with his loose sweater hanging open off one shoulder. Brock can picture him having been reading, or maybe stitching something just moments before coming to the door. His hair’s pinned up, evidently he still hasn’t cut it, but a few tendrils have escaped to bounce against his cheeks, framing his wide eyes and the shocked little ‘o’ of his lips. 

“Hi,” Jefferson finally whispers, startling Brock out of his silent stupor. Oh god has he missed that voice…satin enfolding him.

Satin that turns to steel nails when he remembers this is the last time…

“Hi,” he replies. Jefferson shifts towards him a little, resting against the doorframe, long lashes fluttering around those big eyes. Brock keeps expecting anger, disdain even, but the look on Jefferson’s face is so open… 

He drops his gaze, looking down to where his hand draws out from his pocket, revealing the delicate scarf. Jefferson straightens up instantly, his surprise fresh as Brock extends his hand.

“You left this,” he murmurs, watching as Jefferson’s pretty fingers hesitantly drift forward to take the scarf from him, their skin just barely brushing and sending tingles along Brock’s arm. “I know it’s special, I didn’t want you to forget it or think you’d lost it…” he adds, for want of something to fill the quiet.

“Thank you,” Jefferson sighs, and when Brock looks up he finds himself pinned under grey eyes that are so gentle they’re almost stifling. He tries to smile, a vague twitch of his mouth, and it earns a soft curl of Jefferson’s lips in reply. 

He wants to break down then and there.

“I-I won’t bother you again,” he stutters, rubbing his hand against the back of his neck as he looks away once more. “You’ll never see me after this, I promise, I just…I wanted to see you one last time, I guess. Something to make it final.”

“Final…?” Jefferson repeats the word like a question, but Brock can’t bring himself to make eye contact. He just nods.

“I’m sorry, about everything,” he mumbles, shoving his hands in his pockets again. “You deserve better.”

When he’s only met with a few seconds of silence, he takes it as a dismissal and turns away, biting down on his tongue hard enough to pretend that pain is what’s causing wetness to sting his eyes. Now the fight begins, his feet heavy as he tries to walk away, barely managing a few steps before—

“Do you still love me?”

Jefferson’s voice is far too loud, considering Brock’s only a few feet away, and yet it still manages to sound breathy as it erupts out of him. Hesitant too, much like Brock’s own as he turns back. He’s heard the question, perfectly clear, but can’t begin to process why Jefferson would want to know…why he’d care…

“What?” 

Jefferson’s got his scarf clutched to his chest with both hands, his eyes glistening as he searches Brock’s face. Those eyes will be the death of him, he knows it. “Do you still love me?” he repeats, softer this time, making Brock’s stomach twist. 

He can’t lie, or even hold back. Not to that face. It’s magnetic the way Jefferson can pull honesty out of him.

“I can’t imagine not being in love with you.” 

He hears his own voice before he realizes what he’s saying, and his shoulders tense as the completely unfiltered admission rushes past his lips. He can’t even imagine walking out of this building, how could possibly imagine not feeling warm when he thinks of Jefferson’s smile, or having his chest ache when they’re apart?

Before he can say anything else, he’s silenced by Jefferson’s arms around him, and soft lips pressed against his cheek, a warm body molding against his own and in a moment’s flash, he melts. He can’t help it. His own arms clasp around Jefferson’s body, instinctive, as his eyes fall closed and a shuddering breath works through him. When Jefferson’s nose nuzzles into his cheek, he just barely bites back a whimper. 

_Don’t be cruel,_ he pleads in his mind. _Don’t drag it out_. He won’t survive if his hope beats any more frantically against its cage…

“I love you too.” And just like that, Jefferson’s words rip the floor right out from under Brock. With Jefferson all he has to keep steady, he clings that much more desperately, soft hands cupping his face as his fingers twist in Jefferson’s sweater, beginning to tremble. “I love you and I don’t want this to be final.”

Brock’s voice won’t work as Jefferson’s presses another kiss to his skin and leans back. He can’t think, he can barely breathe as his vision goes blurry at the sight of Jefferson’s shimmering eyes. 

Jefferson still wants him.

Jefferson still loves him.

It’s the relief that shocks him more than anything. Relief flooding through like light from behind clouds. Relief making his head spin and his eyes burn. Relief that has him quivering as Jefferson’s lips brush his cheeks, his forehead…

Not his lips, thank god. Brock would have them both on the floor if their lips touched right now. Imploding like a star.

“But I wanna talk, ok?” Jefferson adds, firmer, even as Brock feels wetness where the omega’s cheek is resting against his own. All he can do is nod dumbly.

“Anything,” he whispers. “Anything, beautiful, I’m so–” His voice breaks as he shakes his head, a tremor rolling through him as Jefferson’s forehead rests against his own. “I’m so fucking sorry, I just–”

“Stop,” Jefferson pleads, and Brock bites down hard on his lip to shut himself up. Jefferson’s hands cover his as the omega steps slowly away. “Can you come inside now?”

“Yeah,” he murmurs, sucking in a deep breath to get a hold of himself as Jefferson leads him through the door.

He’s said it before:

Anything.

Anything to make Jefferson smile, to make Jefferson happy, to make this work.

But this time, he thinks he finally means it.

Anything for the person he knows he can’t live without.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well I needed some fluff after the last chapter ripped my heart out…so this is nothing but make-up fluff. Enjoy~

The awkwardness is expected. Maybe even necessary, or deserved. But Brock still feels his insides squirm a little under the weight of it, trying to escape how it makes his hair stand on end. 

They’ve ended up on the floor—the only place big enough for them both aside from the bed—where Jefferson’s made a nest of pillows and blankets, just across from a little space heater that hums softly in the quiet. Because, even in April, this apartment is still manages to be chilly. It’s really just unbearably sweet, watching Jefferson tuck a couple of his craft projects out of the way to make room for Brock before settling himself with a pillow hugged in his lap, his legs folded neatly under him. 

“Sorry it’s kind of a mess,” Jefferson murmurs. Brock shakes his head.

“I’ve missed your mess.”

“I missed your tidiness.”

Brock looks up and, for the first time, notices the softly grey circles shading under Jefferson’s eyes, even as the omega smiles faintly at him. Guilt sinks in his stomach. “You haven’t been sleeping well…”

“Neither have you,” Jefferson replies, surely having notice similar darkness underneath Brock’s eyes. Brock cocks a sarcastic little smile, running a hand through his hair.

“I haven’t been doing anything well lately,” he mutters. “Except keep my apartment clean.”

“I noticed.” Brock chuckles weakly. How could he forget? Jefferson’s had every opportunity to see him fall apart. “Let me see your hands.”

At those words, cold anxiety rushes down Brock’s spine, and his first instinct is to protest. But when Jefferson reaches out towards him, palms up in silent request, his fight dies in his throat. He extends his hands and Jefferson takes them, his touch agonizingly soft as it glides over each new callus and scar. 

“I’m seeing a shrink,” he mutters when Jefferson sighs sadly. Jefferson needs him to do better, and he will. He’ll make sure of it. “I’ll talk to her about this. There’s a lot to get through so I haven’t yet, but I will, I promise.”

Jefferson’s gaze darts up, eyes blinking wide as he lets their hands fall, still clasped together. “You like her?” he asks. “She’s been helping?”

“Yeah,” Brock nods. “She’s not so bad. Good at sorting through everything I throw at her.” He manages another smile, softer this time. “She pushed me to come see you. Told me the only reason I wasn’t was because I was scared you’d turn me down…”

“Well I’m not turning you down.” Jefferson’s hands squeeze his gently as the omega smiles.

“And believe me, I couldn’t be more relieved,” Brock chuckles. Jefferson giggles softly, but the happiness on his face falters after a moment. 

“You know, when Natasha told me you were talking to somebody she found for you, I almost didn’t believe her,” he murmurs, looking down. “I didn’t think you’d actually ever do it.”

“I don’t blame you,” Brock sighs. “A few months ago, I wouldn’t’ve believed it either. But I guess hitting rock bottom can change a lot of things.”

“Me leaving was rock bottom for you?”

“No!” Brock wants nothing more than to pull Jefferson in close, to kiss away even the thought that Jefferson might be to blame for this, but suddenly that little pillow seems like a wall between them, especially when Jefferson pulls his hands back to hug it once more. “No,” he says again, doing his best to sound sure. “Realizing I’d hurt and lost the person I love, that was what damn near killed me. It wasn’t you fault. None of this is your fault.”

It takes a moment, but Jefferson does let out a long, slow breath and nod, though there’s a pain in his eyes that doesn’t seem at all soothed. “I never meant for it to go on for this long,” he whispers. “I never wanted to actually break up with you.”

It’s reassuring, and at the same time breaks his heart. If neither of them wanted this to happen, why did it? “What stopped you from coming back to talk to me?”

“I wish I knew, it all seems so stupid now,” Jefferson whimpers. “I was just so upset at first and I thought I’d get over it, but then all this time went by, it just seemed to get more awkward the longer it went on…”

“But you were coming to the apartment,” Brock insists. “You were taking your stuff—”

“Well I didn’t have anything here!” Jefferson interrupts, gripping his pillow tighter. “That stuff is what I use every day, I needed it.”

“But you always came when I was gone. You couldn’t…” He can’t help it, the hurt is still fresh as he grinds out the words. “You couldn’t talk to me?”

Jefferson’s biting down hard on his lip, and Brock’s about to double back when the omega tentatively whispers: “I didn’t even know if you’d want to talk to me after what I said…”

After what he said? “After what you said?” 

Jefferson nods, a tiny frown twisting his mouth. “About not needing you. I thought you’d be angry.” Hesitant eyes meet Brock’s own. “Are you?”

“Of course I’m not,” Brock sighs. “And I’m one hell of a hypocrite, it’s not like I tried to talk to you either.” He shakes his head. How dare he… “You had every right to be mad at me after what I said.” Jefferson nods slightly, but that little frown lingers as he looks away. “I mean, come on,” Brock tries to continue, attempting a smile as well. “You never needed me.”

“Yeah, I did.”

Brock’s smile falters at Jefferson’s flat admission. “What do you mean?” As if he doesn’t know.

“I mean, I needed you,” Jefferson sighs, his hand drifting up to tuck some of his hair back. Fruitlessly, as it turns out, because the rebellious curl just tumbles back in front of his eyes seconds later. “When I was in heat, especially, but even when I wasn’t… I needed you, always.”

Brock swallows heavily. “That’s not…so bad…?” he lies in an attempt to be comforting.

“No, it was bad,” Jefferson mutters. “ If we weren’t together, I was just waiting for the next time we would be, and I got anxious if we spent too much time apart or if I didn’t know when I’d see you again. I didn’t know how to be happy without you. Without you…I didn’t even know who I was.”

Brock wishes he were surprised by what he’s hearing. Fuck, does he wish he hadn’t known that was happening.But he has seen it; he’s felt that dependency building between them. Hell, maybe he even encouraged it… The guilt is stifling in his throat as Jefferson continues, clinging to his pillow like a security blanket:

“When it was time to get my injection, I didn’t want to go, because I was scared you were right,” he whispers, and Brock’s stomach hits the floor. “That if I stopped needing you, I’d stop loving you, too. And I didn’t know what I’d do if I stopped loving you.”

“Jesus christ, baby…” Brock breathes.“But you went, right?” If Jack lied to him, he’s gonna kill the guy.

“Yeah,” Jefferson nods. Brock breathes a sigh of relief. “I called Natasha and she snapped me out of it.”

Thank god for Natasha. “She’s good at that.”

“She is,” Jefferson laughs softly, inviting a smile from Brock as well. He’s missed that laugh. “I told her why I was scared and she told me you’d want me to get my treatment, no matter what.”

“And she was right,” Brock says firmly. “So you went, and everything’s ok, right?”

Jefferson nods. “Yeah, Natasha drove me out there and held my hand while they shot me up,” he chuckles. “I felt kinda dizzy the first day and my hip was sore where they put the needle, but other than that, everything was fine.”

The relief is beginning to overwhelm again, Brock feels his breath stutter around it. “No mood swings, no blackouts?”

“Not one bad thing,” Jefferson grins, covering his mouth as he giggles. A bubbly sound that mirrors the feeling in Brock’s chest. “I mean, I still felt that I was in heat. You know, the…pull?” Once Brock nods, he continues. “It freaked me out at first because I thought the injection hadn’t worked, but it never got worse. I was myself. A little wired, but myself. I even went to work.”

“That’s great, baby.” Brock can’t stop grinning as he reaches out to rest his hand lightly on Jefferson’s knee. He chuckles when a flush rises on the omega’s cheeks in response. 

“It was kind of funny, actually, because Belle was so excited for me,” he smiles. “Hugged me as soon as I walked in the door.” He shakes his head fondly. “But her mate, Mr. Gold, he complained that I was going to draw too much attention because of my scent.”

Brock frowns, at Jefferson’s word choice and at what he’s actually saying. “Sounds less ‘funny’ and more like he’s an asshole that I should punch in the face for you.” Jefferson rolls his eyes.

“Thanks, but I’d like to keep my job,” he drawls, making Brock grin. “Don’t worry, Belle set him straight pretty quickly, so I don’t think I’ll be hearing anything from him on that topic again.” 

“Not worrying is not in my nature,” Brock sighs.

“Well, at the very least, worry quietly, and far away from my boss.” They both laugh again as Brock nods. 

“I’ll do my best.”

Jefferson rolls his eyes, then his teeth graze over his lip as he shrugs slightly. “I guess I just thought it was funny because it’s not something I’ve ever had to hear before,” he murmurs, falling quieter again. “Usually my scent is the last thing anybody’s worried about while I’m in heat.”

This time, Brock’s sigh is entirely directed at himself. Of course. “Must be a nice change,” he offers. 

“Nice to get to worry about the little things for once,” Jefferson nods. “I probably will get something to cover my scent while I’m out, though. I got so many strange looks while I was walking, people whistling at me…” Brock sees a shudder run through the omega’s body and feels a wave of protectiveness rush through his own. 

“They’re the ones with the problem,” he mutters. “You shouldn’t have to do anything different.”

“I know,” Jefferson sighs. “But that doesn’t change the fact that I don’t want people leering at me because of my scent. Most omega’s do it, I don’t think it’s a big deal.”

Brock nods, even if he doesn’t agree. The last thing he wants right now is an argument. “You know, I could show you a few moves, just in case anybody ever tries to mess with you.” 

At once, Jefferson face lights up with the prettiest little giggle. “Really?”

“‘Course,” Brock shrugs. “Probably should’ve offered a while ago…” He trails off, his teeth coming down on the inside of his cheek.

Why hadn’t he?

“Well you’re offering now,” Jefferson smiles as his hand slips down to intertwine with Brock’s. “And I’m grateful.”

Brock nods and tries to smile, but a nagging discomfort halts his effort. He looks down at their joined hands as a frown takes over his expression.

“What is it?”

At first Brock just shakes his head, but when Jefferson grip tightens on his hand, just barely, he sighs. “Just thinking about what you said, about how you needed me,” he mutters, catching Jefferson’s nod out of the corner of his eye. “I think…I think maybe I needed you too… That I needed you to need me.”

Just when the chasm of guilt opening up in his stomach is about to swallow him whole, Jefferson’s forehead presses against his own. It’s just the barest touch, but it rockets him back to the present, forcing in a deep breath that’s all Jefferson’s soft scent.

“Maybe a fight was inevitable,” Jefferson finally whispers. “If it wasn’t about bonding, it would’ve been about something else, once things started to change. I think we needed some time apart.”

“You’re probably right,” Brock mutters. “Even if I hated every second of it, you’re probably right.” Jefferson sighs, tipping his head to brush their noses together before he leans back. His gaze is penetrating, and Brock can’t help but straighten up a little under it.

“I just want to make sure you get this,” Jefferson starts. “Maybe I don’t need you in the same way anymore, but I do still want you. If these past few weeks taught me anything, it was that.” Both his hands are holding Brock’s now, squeezing insistently. “I’m choosing you, not because it’s convenient or because I don’t know any better, but because I love you, ok?”

Brock’s breath shudders a little at the words, but he’s nodding immediately. “Ok,” he agrees. “I’m sorry, I never should’ve said—”

“Yes, you should’ve,” Jefferson interrupts. “You made me think about it, because I realized I didn’t know one way or another. But now I have thought about it, and I do know. So now we move forward.”

“Right,” Brock nods, duly admonished. “How do you want to do that? Moving forward…” He clears his throat roughly. “D-do you still want to bond, or…”

He trails off, but Jefferson’s shaking his head slowly, a little smile curling on his lips. “No,” he whispers. “No, you were right about that, we aren’t ready.” Brock drops his head down on the omega’s shoulder.

“Oh thank fuck,” he laughs, and Jefferson giggles with him. “I did not want to have that fight again.”

“Neither do I,” Jefferson smiles. “And I think, um…”

“Yeah?” Brock encourages, lifting his head again to look Jefferson in the eye. Jefferson’s worrying his lip, and Brock has to fight the urge to kiss that nervousness away. Once they start kissing, all bets are gonna be off.

“I think we should keep living in our separate apartments,” Jefferson murmurs. “At least for a little while.”

“Ok…” He can’t exactly say he’s happy about it, not when he’s been dying to have Jefferson back with him again. And of course Jefferson can tell.

“I’m sorry,” he sighs. “I don’t want you to be disappointed…”

“No, it’s ok,” Brock shakes his head. “If that’s what you want, that’s what we’ll do.”

“I just think it would be better, you know?” Jefferson’s voice is edging into pleading. “I want to date you again, the way we should’ve been dating in the beginning, and being on top of each other…” He looks away. “I think it makes us take each other for granted. And I want the time we spend together to be special.”

“Baby, it’s ok,” Brock smiles, cupping Jefferson’s face gently. “I get it. We haven’t been doing this right and we should. Anyway you wanna play this, I’m game.”

Jefferson smiles back, his dimples winking when Brock brushes his thumb over the omega’s cheek. “Thank you,” he murmurs. 

“Anything, beautiful,” Brock sighs. He lets his hands continue back through Jefferson’s hair, only halting when his fingers encounter blunt pins. Jefferson’s eyelashes flutter softly at the little tug, his lower lip slipping between his teeth.

“You can take those out if you want,” he whispers.

“You sure?” Brock raises an eyebrow, smiling when Jefferson nods, blinking coyly.

“They’re starting to pinch.”

Brock chuckles, but carefully starts pulling out pins out of Jefferson’s hair, one after another, so curls start cascading down to frame that beautiful face.“So, we’ll be living apart, I’ll take you on dates…”

“Or I can take you on dates,” Jefferson interjects, making Brock chuckle as he wraps one lock of hair around his finger. When Jefferson’s cheek nuzzles against his hand, his breath catches in his throat.

“Or you can take me on dates,” he agrees. The pillow Jefferson had been cuddling is long gone now, though where it went, or when it disappeared, he can’t be sure. He’s far too concerned with the fact that Jefferson’s edging towards him, close enough to feel the omega’s breath on his skin. “Does spending the night figure anywhere into this plan for us?”

“I’m sure we can squeeze it in somewhere,” Jefferson breathes. “Did you—um… Did you spend the night with anybody else, while we were apart?”

“No,” Brock shakes his head. He can’t even be annoyed at the question, not with bottomless lavender eyes gazing up at him. “There’s no way I could…”

“Me either,” Jefferson nods. “I could never…you’re the only—” His voice breaks and Brock’s quick to soothe.

“I know,” he murmurs, winding his arms around Jefferson’s waist. The omega comes willingly into his lap, arms clinging around his neck. “Even if you had, I wouldn’t care, but I know you wouldn’t.” 

Jefferson nods, nosing into Brock’s hair as he holds onto him. “I thought about you the whole time I was in heat. I knew you were in rut…wished you were with me.”

“Me too,” Brock mutters. “Every time I closed my eyes, I just saw you.”

“Or heard your voice,” Jefferson adds. “Your scent was on my stuff too…there were times I thought I was gonna just lose it.”

Brock laughs softly as he nods. “Christ, do I know that feeling,” he sighs as he leans back tucking Jefferson’s hair behind his ears. “How the hell did we last almost two months?”

“I have no idea,” Jefferson grins. “Can we please just make sure we never do it again?”

“Hell yes.”

They share a breathless laugh as Jefferson rests their foreheads together again, but when their eyes open, the connection is instant and electric. Heat spreads out across Brock’s skin, centering on where Jefferson’s fingers rest against his neck, and where the omega’s breath ghosts against his lips. 

It’s been so long…an eternity.

He almost stops breathing when Jefferson slips his sweater down his arms, tossing it away when Brock’s hands go lax at the sight of him in just a tight tank top that almost perfectly matches his creamy skin.

“Oh that’s not a good idea, baby…” he groans. 

“Why not?” Jefferson purrs, all wide, innocent eyes and pouty lips. Brock response flies right out of his mind when Jefferson’s hands slip under his shirt, fingers teasing along his sides.

“Because…we just got back together?” he tries, putting up no fight and even helping out as Jefferson pushes off his jacket. “Because we’ve missed each other and we’re not thinking straight?” His shirt comes off next, thrown right out of the way along with the rest.

“You might be right,” Jefferson shrugs. “It would probably be a good decision to wait, like we did the first time.” His hand slides down to Brock’s back pocket, carefully pulling out his wallet and seeking out one of the condoms Brock always keeps there, just in case. His eyes flick back up to Brock’s, cocking one eyebrow as he wiggles the little packet teasingly between his fingers. “But maybe I’m just done making good decisions for today.”

Surely there’s a witty reply just dying to be made, but Brock has absolutely no idea what it might be. The only thing he can manage is a weak nod as Jefferson sets the wallet and condom off to the side and turns off the space heater, only breaking eye contact when he pulls his top over his head.

“Y-you might get cold without that thing on…” he stutters, though hell if he knows why when Jefferson’s eyes are big and dark above him as the omega straddles his lap, arms sliding around his neck, fingers gliding through his hair.

“Not if you’re keeping me nice and warm.”

Brock whimpers. He actually fucking whimpers but he doesn’t have time to be embarrassed because Jefferson is kissing him and it’s perfect. Warm, burning against his lips. When he presses his hands against Jefferson’s back to draw him in closer, the omega moans as their bodies come together, the air a flood of light rushing into Brock’s lungs, expanding his chest until he think it’ll burst. His hands are moving up Jefferson’s back, and he groans as his tongue slips into Jefferson’s mouth to be met with the sweetest little purrs. 

They hit the ground, Brock on his back with Jefferson still pressing over him. His hands find the omega’s hips, urging him forward and pressing up until Jefferson gasps softly at the contact between their legs. Brock flips them, their mouths still connected in hungry, desperate kisses as Jefferson’s legs lock around his waist. Brock’s rutting against Jefferson in seconds, encouraged by nails dragging down his chest and across his scalp while needy whimpers and a searching tongue slip into his mouth each time he opens it, seeking more of the sweet taste he’s missed so much.

He has to pause, if only for a moment. He has to breathe or else he’ll snap.

Jefferson makes no argument when Brock goes still, his hand shifting from Jefferson’s thigh to grip roughly at the quilt spread out underneath them. Brock’s eyes stay closed, attempting a deep, steadying breath; though that’s not exactly easy to manage with their lips still ghosting together, teasing another kiss that never comes.

When he feels Jefferson softly nosing at his cheek, he has to open his eyes to look down. He’s met with a soft lavender-grey looking up at him, and something inside him melts and Jefferson’s hands turn gentle, gliding down his arms.

“Everything ok?” Jefferson asks softly. Brock manages a little grin.

“Yeah, beautiful.” He carefully trails one finger along a fine cheekbone, chuckling softly when it turns rosy under his touch. “I just missed you.” 

“I missed you too,” Jefferson whispers in reply. “Missed how you smile at me.”

Brock snorts, pressing a kiss between Jefferson’s brows “That’s so cute.”

“Shut up,” Jefferson giggles. “What did you miss most about me?”

“I, uh…” Brock falters. “I-I missed how you smile, too.” He’s never been good at being put on the spot. Not for things like this. But gorgeous, half-lidded eyes and a mouth ever-so-softly pursed in asking have a way of loosening his tongue. “I missed your laugh…” he adds. “Missed how you smell when you’re fresh out of the shower…how you blush when I give you a compliment.”

Right on cue, Jefferson does just that, flushing deep pink as he pushes at Brock’s shoulder playfully. Brock can’t help but laugh, though it’s short-lived, and he pauses to run his tongue over his bottom lip. 

“I missed how you get that funny look on your face when you’re concentrating on something,” he murmurs. “How you’d tell me about something you were reading, or about some annoying customer you had to deal with at work…missed telling you horror stories about people at the club, too.”

“Brock…” Jefferson’s whisper crystallizes in Brock’s mind at the same moment he sees little tears glinting at the corners of the omega’s huge eyes, and he leans down just in time to catch the salty bitterness on his lips as he brushes a kiss against Jefferson’s temple.

“Missed having you in bed next to me, how you’d talk me down if I had a nightmare,” he continues, moving his soft kisses down Jefferson’s neck. “Missed how you’d put your arms around my waist if I was in the middle of cooking and you wanted my attention.” He looks up when Jefferson lets out a weak little laugh at that, and moves back up to steal another kiss from those perfectly bowed lips. “And I really did miss your smile, I wasn’t just saying that ‘cause you said it first.” 

Jefferson nods softly, his eyelashes strewn with twinkling drops of wetness now. A lump wells up in Brock’s throat. He’s so beautiful, even when Brock’s making him cry… “And I’m so sorry for what I said,” he chokes out. “What you go through every month…I should never have used it against you like that.”

“Thank you.” Brock almost falls apart yet again when Jefferson’s soft words caress his cheek, followed seamlessly by a warm kiss as gentle fingers run through his hair. “You’re forgiven, ok? We all say things we don’t mean when we’re angry. And we all deserve a second chance.”

Brock laughs softly. Seems more like he’s on his third of fourth chance, but as long as Jefferson’s offering, he’s not going to refuse. “Thank you,” he whispers back, accepting Jefferson’s kiss on his lips this time. When Jefferson’s hand clenches in his hair and soft thighs squeeze around his waist, the flare of heat in back in his chest full force once again.

He loves Jefferson.

He’s missed Jefferson.

And he’s going to make sure every inch of the omega’s body knows just how much.

He lays kisses over translucent eyelids, and his teeth just barely graze under Jefferson’s ear before his tongue skates along the hollow of a smooth throat, only briefly pausing over the little furrow of scarring. Jefferson’s shivers at the quiet ‘I love you’ Brock whispers into his skin. His fingertips brush over Jefferson’s ribs to grip at his waist as his tongue laves over pinked nipples until they’re both peaking. And when Brock needs the omega to relinquish his hold to lean back and pull off the rest of his clothing, he does it with little nips along the inside of Jefferson’s wrist and more kisses on each of his fingertips .

Jefferson’s whimper is painfully sweet when Brock fixes his mouth on the spot just above his navel, sucking until a purple-red mark blooms while Jefferson’s back bows up. By the time he’s brushing his lips along milky thighs, the omega’s quivering all over. 

“Brock,” he whimpers. “Don’t stop, please…”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Brock purrs. 

When Brock takes Jefferson in his mouth, the omega cries out, whining softly as Brock moans at the sweet, musky taste of Jefferson’s length on his tongue as he moves up and down. He loves doing this for Jefferson, and he’s made no secret of it. Loves the sounds Jefferson makes when he does, how his hips don’t quite know how to react and how shivery he gets as a result.

Another cry escapes Jefferson’s lips, coupled with legs clamping down on Brock’s torso,when Brock presses two fingers into the omega’s slicked, heated body.

“Oh god…” Jefferson groans as his hips rock in time with Brock’s movements. He’s blushing down his chest now, his eyes fluttering shut no matter how hard he seems to try to keep them open to look down at Brock.

Brock pulls back just long enough to flash a little smile, pressing a kiss to the tip of Jefferson’s length before swallowing him down again and purring low in his throat. Jefferson’s howl of pleasure is high and desperate as he fists the blanket, breaking into a sound that borders on a sob when Brock fingers bend to massage his prostate.

“I-I’m gonna—” he chokes out before whining again and Brock feels his body turn tense and resistant. Brock pulls back again, laying a trail of kisses along Jefferson’s hipbone.

“It’s ok,” he murmurs. Jefferson’s face is heart-wrenchingly beautiful as he looks down and nods, fresh droplets clinging to his eyelashes as he worries his lip. 

It takes all of a few seconds for him to come undone once Brock’s mouth is on him again, arching up with a shout. Brock swallows readily, not that Jefferson gives him much choice when frantic hands twist in his hair. 

He wouldn’t have it any other way.

Jefferson’s still whimpering when Brock pulls away, nuzzling against Jefferson’s neck and cheek as his hand strokes along Jefferson’s trembling body.

“You’re not usually loud for me,” he teases, smirking when Jefferson turns to look at him. 

“W-well it’s been a while,” Jefferson replies, still catching his breath. “And you were trying pretty hard.”

“Glad it paid off,” Brock smirks, and Jefferson’s giggle lights up the room. Brock can’t resist a soft kiss that’s eagerly accepted.

“This is what I missed most, you know, the way you care about me,” Jefferson murmurs, nuzzling their noses together. “Not just with sex, but the way you listen to me. How you hold meor talk to me when I can’t fall asleep. How you’re so sweet when you wake me up in the morning.”

“I’m happy to do it,” Brock nods. “I love you, after all.”

“I love you too.” Jefferson brings him in for a kiss this time and Brock hums softly as he adjusts himself. When Jefferson’s hand slips down to cup him, he can’t help soft groan.

“Are you tired?” Jefferson asks, coy, with big sweet eyes that promise the world.

“Depends on what you’re thinking,” he smirks.

“I’m thinking it’s been almost two months…” Jefferson murmurs, as a grin that’s anything but shy begins to curl into his cheeks. “And you’ve got at least two, from what I saw, condoms in your wallet, none of which we have put to use…” Brock has to bite his tongue as Jefferson pops the button on his jeans, drawing his fly down slowly. “Which means we should really get a headstart on all the making up for lost time we need to do.”

“Fuck, baby…” he moans, just as a soft hand slips inside his jeans to wrap around his length. “You know me, so long as you’re willing, I’m yours.” Jefferson’s giggle against his lips is cloyingly sweet and exactly what he needs seconds before he finds himself pinned on his back by playful hands, a perfect smile beaming down at him.

It turns out he’d had three condoms in his wallet, not one of which makes it through the night.

******

He goes home to his own apartment the next morning, after driving Jefferson to work. It’s not exactly easy to say goodbye, but a deep and promising kiss from Jefferson keeps it from being painful. They set a date to have dinner later in the week, and Brock promises something nice, even when Jefferson tries to roll his eyes and say he doesn’t have to. 

Once he’s home, he sends a text to Natasha and Jack, feeling good enough to share the news, and in about four seconds, Natasha’s calling him back. Can’t say he’s surprised. As for Jack, he’ll probably hear from him once it’s at least past noon.

“Hey, Tasha.”

“Hey, Casanova.”

“Oh god, don’t start,” he snorts. 

“Sorry, sorry,” Natasha simpers. “It’s just, I don’t hear anything from you for two days, and then all of a sudden you’ve made up with your baby, I have to assume you did some serious sweet-talking.”

“I wouldn’t call it sweet-talking,” Brock mutters, flipping the coffeemaker on and leaning against the kitchen counter. “Just told him I was sorry, told him I loved him…and he was willing to take me back.”

“Sometimes that’s all you need to say.” 

Brock cocks an eyebrow. “And thank fuck for that, because I don’t know where I’d be if he’d turned me away.” Back here, still moping probably.

“Well, since that’s not what’s happening, let’s not think about it,” Natasha chuckles, and Brock couldn’t agree more. “So what’s the story? Is he moving back in with you?”

“No,” Brock sighs.

“Oh?”

“Yeah,” Brock shrugs. “He wants us to live apart, so we can date and have it be special when we’re together.”

“And you’re ok with that?”

“I guess,” Brock says, nodding even though he knows Natasha can’t see him. “I mean, I’d love to have him with me 24/7, but I get why he wants it this way. And I want to make him happy.”

“Who are you and what the hell did you do with Brock Rumlow?” Natasha laughs. Brock just shakes his head, laughing a little at himself.

“I have no idea,” he mutters. “But fuck it, I’m happy.”

“And I’m happy for your sorry, hopelessly in love ass.”

“Gosh thanks,” Brock drawls. “How about you and your hopelessly in love ass? That going well?”

“Couldn’t ask for more,” Natasha sighs. “We’re going out to breakfast, but she’s taking her time getting ready, so I found a minute to call.”

The last half of the sentence grows a little louder, and is layered with so much affection Brock knows it’s not really being said to him. Which reminds him… “Uh, speaking of going out…” he mutters, waiting until Natasha hums to be sure he’s got her attention. “I told Jefferson we could go on a date later this week, but I’m really out of my depth…” He trails off, but Natasha quick to infer what he doesn’t say.

“You’re asking me for dating advice?” He can hear her grinning.

“Well, it’s not like I’ve got a great track record where dating’s concerned,” he sighs. “I wanna do right by him. And if I have to ask for help to do that, then so be it.”

“You really are a changed man,” Natasha muses. “But unfortunately for you, I am a kept woman, so I think I might have to turn you over to the one who’s been wining and dining me.” 

Brock winces when Natasha calls Maria’s name, but has to smile at the muffled sweet nothings and laughter he can hear between them. Maria’s the only one he’s ever heard make Natasha laugh like that…

“So…” Brock flexes a little and clears his throat when Maria’s cool voice comes through. “You’re looking for some advice about how to impress a date?”

“Impress might not be the right word…” Brock shrugs. “Make him feel special, I guess.”

Maria chuckles, impossibly cavalier. Brock really needs to get to know her better. “I think I can help with that…”

 

 


	11. Chapter 11

Their date goes really well, or at least that’s what Brock tells himself the whole time while he’s so nervous that it’s a chore to keep his hands from shaking.

He gets Jefferson flowers, at Natasha’s prodding. She suggests red roses, because they’re “classic”, but Brock’s not really sure how he feels about that word, so he strays instead to the lavender roses that catch his eye as soon as he walks into the—somewhat garish—flower shop. 

He must’ve done something right, though, because Jefferson’s face lights up the moment he opens the door and sees them.

“You didn’t have to get me flowers,” he coos, cradling the bouquet in his arms while Brock leans in to place a soft kiss on Jefferson’s cheek, sparks catching in the brush of their skin. 

“I know, but I wanted to,” he shrugs. “Do you like them?” He can’t help the hesitance in his voice, but it fades quickly when Jefferson nods, burying his face in the roses and breathing deep.

“They’re beautiful,” he murmurs, flashing a golden smile that has Brock’s knees feeling a little weak. “Let me just put them in water, ok?”

Brock nods, following Jefferson inside when the omega beckons him. It’s sweet, watching Jefferson delicately arrange the flowers, spacing out the stems one by one until they fall in a perfect circle around the vase’s rim.

“Never had anybody give me flowers,” he sighs.

“Well that’s a damn shame,” Brock replies and Jefferson giggles. It almost makes up for the little prick of sadness in Brock’s stomach. Jefferson deserves nice gestures like flowers, all the time.“I’ll have to get them for you more often.”

“You’re too sweet,” Jefferson smiles, leaning in to smell the roses again. Brock chuckles, sighing softly as he leans back against the wall, his eyes winding a path down the long line of Jefferson’s body.

“You look really beautiful, by the way,” Brock murmurs after a few moments, making Jefferson look up. “I mean, you always look beautiful, of course…” he shrugs, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Thank you,” Jefferson smiles, and Brock’s grateful for the interruption, preventing him from saying anything dumb. When Jefferson takes a step towards him, he readily opens his arms for him. “Natasha actually took me shopping, and gave me a few pointers for how to do makeup,” Jefferson continues, blushing sweetly. “Think I did a good job?”

Brock nods immediately, even if it takes him a few seconds to pick out what’s different. “Yeah, it’s nice,” he smiles, once he’s noticed how a pale turquoise shimmer on the inner corners of Jefferson’s eyes fades seamlessly into a charcoal grey around the outer edge. “Your eyes look really nice.”

Jefferson beams at him, pressing closer for a kiss that Brock eagerly gives up, licking apricot-flavored gloss from his lips once they pull away.

“Ready to go?”

“Yeah,” Jefferson nods, still grinning.When Brock turns to the door,Jefferson’s quick to loop his arm through Brock’s. “So,where are you taking me?”

“Somewhere nice,” Brock smirks, earning him a jab in his ribs from Jefferson.

“You’re not gonna tell me any more than that?” the omega pouts.

“Come on, you don’t like surprises?” Brock laughs. Jefferson rolls his eyes, but just sighs and rests his cheek on Brock’s shoulder.

“Never had anybody take me somewhere nice before either…”

“Well, I’ve never taken somebody somewhere nice before,” Brock shrugs. “I hope I’m doing it right.”

Jefferson laughs softly. “I don’t have any complaints so far.”

The restaurant’s one Maria suggested. Brock checked it out before hand, went over the menu, not wanting to be surprised. It’s small, but cozy, and Jefferson lights up for the second time that evening when they walk in. 

He’s so pretty in the soft light, it almost looks like he’s glowing.

The night’s perfect. They get a booth in the back corner of the restaurant, and Jefferson doesn’t hesitate to curl up at Brock’s side instead of just sitting across from him. They both laugh when Jefferson can’t pronounce half the things on the menu, but Brock walks him through the Italian words, until he’s saying them just as prettily as he does English.

“I didn’t know you spoke Italian.”

“I don’t really anymore, just a few phrases here and there,” Brock sighs. “I’m pretty sure I was fluent as a kid because my mom taught me, but my father only knew enough to curse me out every now and then, so I fell outta practice.”

“I bet you could pick it up again really easily,” Jefferson murmurs, the tinge of sadness in his eyes distracting from the smile he puts on.

“Maybe.” Brock mutters, trying to shrug it off. “Don’t know why I would bother…”

“Well I think it’s pretty cool,” Jefferson muses, sliding his hand down to hold Brock’s. Brock glances over, a smile coming to his face of its own accord.

“You think so?”

“I do,” Jefferson nods, his smile now framed by dimples as he drops his gaze. “And, I mean… you also sound really hot when you speak it, so there’s that…”

“Yeah?” Brock grins. When Jefferson nods, Brock kisses the tip of his nose lightly, eliciting a giggle. “Ti amo, bello.”

The rosy glow in Jefferson’s cheeks is obvious, despite how quickly the omega tries to duck his face down to hide it. “And what does that mean?”

“Means I love you,” Brock murmurs.

Jefferson’s teeth peek out to graze his lower lip, and he leans forward for a real kiss this time. “Say it again?”

“Ti amo,” Brock repeats against Jefferson’s lips, pressing in for another kiss to muffle Jefferson’s giggles. “Ti amo tanto, bello…”

Jefferson moans softly when Brock’s hands find his waist, pulling him in for more kisses, deep and eager. Jefferson’s fingers tangle in Brock’s shirt, his tongue just barely teasing against Brock’s lips before he pulls back.

“You’re gonna get us in trouble,” he murmurs, and Brock sighs softly before forcing himself to pull away. 

“Sorry,” Brock mutters, resting his cheek on his hand as he smiles. “Like I said, not used to being in fancy places like this.”

Jefferson’s face is brilliantly flushed behind his hand. “Guess we could probably get away with a little kissing at that club,” he whispers.

“People get away with a hell of a lot more than that,” Brock chuckles, though he dials it back when the shade of red on Jefferson’s face becomes concerning. “But I think it’s better if we keep our heavy petting confined to our apartments.”

“Sounds good to me,” Jefferson nods. “You’re making it really hard to keep my hands to myself though.” He laughs softly, looking away. “Those pants fit you really well…”

Brock raises an eyebrow, smirking as Jefferson smiles shyly back. “Trust me, baby, I know the feeling.”

They manage to behave for the rest of the night, but they only just make it in the door of Jefferson’s apartment before they’re on each other again, frantic kisses that only break to make way for their clothes coming off.

They do make it to the bed, but just barely. And being inside Jefferson does wonders for Brock’s Italian proficiency.

******

Brock wakes up in his own bed, a few days later, to the sound of his phone buzzing, Jefferson’s name lighting up the screen.

“Hey, beautiful,” he mumbles, flipping the call onto speaker and dropping his phone onto the bed next to him so he can burrow right back into his pillow. It is only eight in the morning after all…

“Hey,” Jefferson squeaks out, making Brock frown and pick up his head. “I’m sorry, I know it’s early…”

“What’s wrong?” Brock asks, sitting up as he grabs his phone. He knows that tone of voice, and he’s instantly awake.

“I-It’s nothing…”

“Doesn’t sound like nothing, baby,” Brock sighs. “What’s up?”

Jefferson sighs softly, and Brock waits, running a hand through his hair. 

“I’m supposed to take my injection today,” Jefferson finally murmurs. “But I…I’ve been trying and I just can’t…”

Brock sighs heavily. “You want me to come over?”

“Would you?” Jefferson asks, his voice pitiful. “I don’t know if it’ll help, but…”

Brock shakes his head. “Listen, um…” he pauses, biting his lip. He’s nearly as bad with needles as Jefferson is, even after all the time he’s spent in hospitals…“You remember how I told you Jack got medic training?”

“Yeah?”

“Well, he’s pretty good at giving shots,” Brock shrugs. “I could give him a call. He can get this taken care of nice and easy.” 

Jefferson makes a noncommittal sound, followed by a silence that lasts too long.

“What is it, baby?”

“I just want to be able to do this myself…” Jefferson whimpers. “It’s just a fucking needle—”

“Hey, stop that,” Brock groans. “Sticking a needle in your own hip isn’t nothing, I doubt I’d be able to do it. You can work up to doing this yourself.”

He hears Jefferson suck in a deep breath, and finds himself matching the pattern of the omega’s breathing. “I’m gonna call Jack and then come over, alright?”

“Alright,” Jefferson sighs. “He won’t mind, right?”

“Oh, I’m sure he’ll whine at me just because he can, but he’ll come,” Brock chuckles, praying that Jefferson’s smiling too. “Have you eaten today? I can pick you up something on the way over.”

“That’d be really great,” Jefferson sighs. When he laughs softly, Brock feels the release in his whole body. “I love you.”

“Love you too, baby,” Brock smiles. “I’ll see you soon.”

They say goodbye, and once Brock’s dressed he gets Jack on the phone. 

“You better have a damn good reason for waking me up at this ungodly hour…”

“Jefferson needs help with his injection,” Brock states, wasting no time mincing words. “And you’re better with a needle than I am.”

Jack’s silent for a few seconds, Brock grants him that. He’s pretty sure Jack hasn’t been awake this early in years.

“Well good morning to you too,” Jack mutters, and Brock winces at the obnoxiously loud yawn that follows. “You’ve got my attention…”

“I’ll have coffee too when you get there,” Brock smirks. Jack never says no to caffeine. 

“Well damn, if you’re gonna talk sweet to me that’s a whole ‘nother story…” Jack groans, and Brock hears him shifting and getting up.

“Shut the fuck up and put clothes on,” Brock mutters, rolling his eyes. “I’ll text you his address.”

“Yeah, yeah, see ya in a bit.”

Brock snorts a laugh and hangs up, and, after a quick stop at their cafe, finds himself outside Jefferson’s apartment. Jefferson’s still in pajamas when he opens the door.

“Hey, baby,” Brock smiles, slipping his free arm around Jefferson’s waist when the omega presses in for a hug. 

“Thank you for coming,” he mumbles, face buried in Brock’s shoulder. 

“Not a problem,” Brock smiles. “Jack should be here soon, in the meantime, you can eat something.”

When Jefferson discovers the chocolate muffin Brock’s brought him, Brock earns a warm, lasting kiss. “My sweetheart’s so good to me,” Jefferson purrs.

Brock just laughs, laying down on his side across Jefferson’s bed, sipping at his coffee while the omega folds his legs under himself and settles in to eat. They’re quiet, comfortably so, though Brock’s heart sinks when he sees the fruits of Jefferson’s attempts to give himself his injection: three hypodermic needles, unwrapped and laying on Jefferson’s bedside table, clearly having been discarded once Jefferson lost his nerve and set them down, leaving them no longer sterile.

“It’s been a long morning,” Jefferson sighs, following Brock’s gaze.

“It’s barely nine…”

“Still been a long morning.” Jefferson smiles weakly, sucking a smear of chocolate off his thumb. “Sorry for dragging you out of bed this early.”

Brock sighs, shaking his head. “It’s ok, really,” he mutters. “I needed to be up anyway, got an appointment with my doc later.” He looks up when Jefferson giggles softly. “What?”

“Nothing,” Jefferson sighs, bright and happy, his eyes warm. “I’m just really proud of you for taking care of yourself.”

Brock has to look away, scratching at his nose awkwardly. “I’m really proud of you too, baby,” he finally murmurs.

“Even if I need a little help?”

“‘Course,” Brock smiles. “Needles freak everybody out, even people who claim not to mind ‘em.”

When he hears Jefferson moving closer, he glances up just in time to receive a soft kiss that has him sighing onto Jefferson’s tongue. But just when Brock feels things about to turn more heated, there’s a knock at the door.

“That’s probably Jack,” he sighs, pulling away and wiping a few stray crumbs from the corner of Jefferson’s mouth. “I’ll get it.”

Jefferson nods, reluctantly letting Brock pull away. Brock runs a hand through his hair as he goes to the door, bringing Jack’s coffee with him so he can press it into the other alpha’s hand and soon as he opens the door. 

Jack doesn’t even say a word, just grunts before downing half the cup of coffee in one go. “You’re lucky your boy’s a cutie, I don’t get up this early for just anybody.”

“Uh-huh, I’ll owe you one,” Brock snorts, shoving Jack’s shoulder as he follows him in. Jefferson’s perched on the edge of the bed, and gives an awkward little wave that Jack returns with a wry smile. 

“You doin’ ok, kid?”

“I guess,” Jefferson shrugs, folding his hands in his lap. Brock notices he’s set out a fresh, packaged needle, alongside the little vial of medication on the nightstand. “Thank you for doing this.”

“No problem,” Jack nods, flashing a grin. “Just let me wash up and we can get this taken care of.”

Jefferson nods, reaching out to take Brock’s hands when he sits down next to Jefferson again, while Jack disappears into the bathroom, followed by the sound of running water. He emerges again after a few minutes with rolled up sleeves flashing the intricate tattoos that spiral down his arms, looking surprisingly more awake and professional.

“So this is an intramuscular injection?” he asks, picking up the vial and examining the tiny print on the label. 

“Yeah,” Jefferson nods. “It goes in my hip.”

“Right,” Jack smiles. “You’re lucky, those are the easy ones, trying to find a vein is just a pain in the ass.”

“Well this one’s more of a literal pain in the ass…” Jefferson mumbles, making Brock and Jack both chuckle.

“Fair enough,” Jack smirks. “Why don’t you lay on your side, get comfortable, and move your clothes out of the way.”

Jefferson manages a little smile back, and Brock shifts behind him while he lays down, carefully making sure a pillow’s tucked under his head. Jefferson reaches for the little packet with an alcohol wipe in it, once his shifted his shorts low on his hip, swabbing down his skin before nuzzling into the pillow while Jack fills the syringe with practiced ease. Even Brock’s a little impressed, and he’s seen Jack do this dozens of times. 

“Your doctor showed you how to do this, right?” Jack glances at Jefferson, waiting for a nod. 

“Yeah, I just freaked out and couldn’t do it,” Jefferson sighs, though Brock manages to coax a little smile out of him by running a hand through his hair.

“Don’t worry, it took me forever to be comfortable with it too, and I was only sticking needles in other people, not myself,” Jack chuckles. “Gotta put my hand on you now, ok?”

Jefferson nods, taking in a deep, shaky breath when Jack’s hand rests on his hip, positioning himself with the needle. When Jefferson’s eyes squeeze shut, Brock’s quick to start stroking his hair again.

“Breathe, baby,” he murmurs, and Jefferson draws in another breath. He still winces when Jack presses the needle into his hip, but thankfully it’s over quickly. Almost anticlimactic.

About time something was less than dramatic for them.

“All done,” Jack sighs, tossing the needle away. “Wasn’t so terrible, right?”

Jefferson laughs softly, sitting up and resting his head back against Brock’s shoulder. “I guess,” he shrugs, adjusting his pajamas back up onto his hip. “It always aches a little afterwards, but I’ll live.”

“Well I’d hope so,” Brock smiles, pressing a kiss to Jefferson’s cheek. Jefferson giggles softly before reaching out to lay his hand on Jack’s forearm. “Thank you again for coming.”

The look on Jack’s face is almost comical as he stares at Jefferson’s delicate hand on his broad, inked arm. Like he doesn’t quite believe it. But then he flashes a little half-smile and seems to relax.

“It’s no problem,” he shrugs, glancing over at Brock, then back to Jefferson. “Mind if I use your bathroom again?”

“Not at all,” Jefferson nods. Brock waits until Jack’s disappeared behind the door before sneaking another kiss on Jefferson’s shoulder.

“You ok?”

“Mm-hm,” Jefferson nods, tipping his head for a brief kiss on the lips. “Those tattoos are something…”

“Yeah,” Brock chuckles. “He’s got them all over. It’s a cultural thing, his mom’s Maori. They’re called _moko_.”

“Oh wow…” Jefferson breathes. “Does…does he not like them being touched? He looked weird when I put my hand on his arm…”

“Nah, it’s not the _moko_ , he’s just kinda weird about being touched, period,” Brock shrugs. “I mean, usually when we’re touching, it’s just to push each other around, so…”

“Right,” Jefferson smiles. “ _Alphas_ …”

“I resent that,” Brock mutters, but Jefferson just giggles again before sighing.

“So I’m just imagining that he seemed kinda eager to get away from me?”

“Not to get away from you,” Brock shrugs. “I think he’s just giving us a minute.”

“A minute?” Jefferson raises an eyebrow, purring softly when Brock kisses him again. “I think we might need more than a minute…”

Brock groans softly, laying kisses along Jefferson’s jaw. “Don’t tempt me, I can’t stay.”

Jefferson sighs, nuzzling Brock’s cheek. “Think you can come over later today?”

“I might be able to swing that,” Brock smirks. “So you’ll be going into heat in next few days, huh?”

“Yeah,” Jefferson blushes, looking down. “You wanna be here for that?’

“You know I do,” Brock nods. “Do you want me here for that?”

“Felt like I was missing a piece of me when you weren’t here last month,” Jefferson murmurs. “Of course I want you with me.”

“Then I’ll be here,” Brock smiles. “Whenever you want me, I’ll be here.”

They’re locked in another kiss when the sound of Jack opening the bathroom door surprises them enough to pull away. Jack’s got a shiteating grin when Brock shrugs in his direction, Jefferson’s blushing face hidden in his shoulder.

“Sorry,” he smirks, gesturing with his thumb back into the bathroom. “Should I go lock myself back in here for another half-hour, or—?”

“Shut up,” Brock laughs. “Nah, I gotta get going, I’ll walk out with you.”

Jack nods, grabbing his coffee again and heading to the door while Jefferson steals one last kiss from Brock’s lips and whispers a goodbye.

Jack’s elbowing him in the side as soon as they’re out the door. 

“You two are so cute it’s disgusting.”

“Shove it.” Brock mutters into his coffee, taking a long drink before shaking his head. “Thanks for coming, man, I mean it.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” Jack shrugs. “You can’t say no to your boy and it’s starting to rub off on me.”

“Knew you were a big ol’ softie at heart,” Brock chuckles.

“Well you knew that when I took care of your sorry ass for how many months?” Jack grins. Brock just rolls his eyes. “Least you’ve got something good to tell your shrink today.”

Brock smiles, swirling his coffee absentmindedly. “At least there’s that.”

Diana’s glad to hear about their reconciliation, not that she’s about to let him off the hook. They talk about his obsessive cleaning, about the compulsive workouts, and how both probably stem from how he grew up. By the time Brock returns to Jefferson’s apartment that evening, he’s not exactly in the brightest mood. Jefferson doesn’t care. He doesn’t ask for details—for which Brock’s grateful—just puts on the soothing instrumental music he loves, and they lay in bed for a few hours. Jefferson runs his fingers lightly over Brock’s arms and hands, and murmurs sweet nothings that make Brock smile, at least for a little while. 

Eventually, they start kissing softly, and soon even softer touches follow, moving their clothes out of the way in favor of being skin to skin. They don’t have sex, but lying so close, so caught up in each other, somehow still feels like making love.

“I’m really glad we’re together again,” Brock finally whispers. Jefferson nods, pressing a kiss to Brock’s forehead.

“Me too.”

******

Brock swears he feels it when Jefferson’s heat starts.

He may be blocks away, but he swears he catches Jefferson’s scent and feels a tug in his lower stomach. Not a drive or a need to seek Jefferson out, just a little promise of what’s to come.

He tries to brush it off, but when he gets a call a few days later, he can’t help but be a little pleased with himself.

“Hey, beautiful,” he purrs.

“Hey, sweetheart…” Jefferson’s voice is velvet, and Brock has to bite down on his tongue to keep from groaning just at the sound. “You busy right now?”

“Not really,” Brock smirks, leaning back against the counter of his kitchen, his fingers drum against the counter, itching to have Jefferson under them. “How about you?”

“Not really,” Jefferson mimics. “Just thinking about you…”

“I like the sound of that,” Brock chuckles. “Thinking about anything in particular?”

“I can show you a lot better than I can tell you,” Jefferson replies. He’s in bed, Brock can hear the rustling of pillows and sheets. “Maybe you should just come over.”

“All you had to do was ask,” Brock smirks, grabbing his keys. “Want me to stay on the phone with you?”

“No,” Jefferson murmurs, his voice tinged with amusement now. “I’ve still got some preparing to do before you get here.”

The call clicks off, and Brock just about drops his phone in his rush out the door.

There’s no saying no to that.

Jefferson’s scent hits him as soon as he enters the building, and he finds himself growling softly, just on instinct. He’s barely outside Jefferson’s door half a second before the omega’s dragging him inside by his collar and shoving him against the wall for a rough kiss that’s teeth as much as it is lips or tongue.

“Fuck, you smell so good,” Jefferson moans, nuzzling into Brock’s neck and breathing deep. “I knew the second you got here, I could smell you all the way from the first floor.”

“So could I,” Brock groans, growling against Jefferson’s shoulder when the omega’s teeth graze his ear. His scent’s intoxicating, raw and carnal, and his kisses are burning hot as they press open-mouthed against Brock’s neck.

Brock’s pretty sure he hears his shirt rip when Jefferson yanks it up suddenly, but he doesn’t care, too concerned about getting Jefferson’s shirt off as well. Jefferson purrs, moving easily with Brock’s prompting and letting his shirt slide gracefully off as his lips continue to tease along Brock’s collarbone. 

“Jesus christ…” Brock moans, tangling his fingers in Jefferson’s hair when he feels his zipper getting pulled down and Jefferson’s hands slipping inside to wrap around his length. “Eager, aren’t you?”

“You could say that,” Jefferson replies, humming softly when Brock catches his lips in a kiss. “I wanna use my mouth on you.”

Brock’s breath sticks in his throat as he pulls back to see Jefferson, who’s smiling softly. “You sure?”

Jefferson just nods, and Brock bites down on his tongue as the omega slips down to his knees, his lashes fluttering dreamily as he lays kisses across Brock’s stomach. Brock’s hand cards gently through his mess of curls, doing his best to keep his hips still as Jefferson takes out his cock and leans in to press more kisses along the length. He’s purring now, deep in his throat, just shy of a growl, his lips vibrating against Brock’s skin.

“Fuck, baby…” Brock moans, his hand getting tighter in Jefferson’s hair. Grey eyes flash up at him, dark and eager, matched with a smile before Jefferson’s pink tongue strokes up his length, drawing a groan out of him.

Jefferson’s mouth is incredible. Hot, warm, and wet as plush lips wrap around the tip of his cock. It’s shy at first, and just a touch uncertain, tentative licks and soft sucking, though Jefferson seems to know how to keep his teeth out of the way. The perfect tease to get Brock’s body thrumming.

Jefferson does get bolder, closing his eyes and humming quietly as he manages to take more in, his tongue working in shudder-inducing strokes along the underside of the shaft. Brock keeps his hand on Jefferson’s shoulder, rubbing slow circles. Let Jefferson set the pace, he tells himself. Don’t push. But even so, when Jefferson pulls back, it’s a struggle for Brock to keep his hips from jerking forward.

“Is that ok?” Jefferson asks softly as his hand glides along Brock’s cock in the absence of his mouth.

“Yeah,” Brock nods quickly, stroking his thumb along Jefferson’s cheek and smiling when the omega leans into his touch. “Perfect, baby. You’re perfect.”

Jefferson blushes, smiling again. “Can I keep going?”

Brock can’t resist a laugh. “Well I’m not gonna stop you.”

He gets a peek at Jefferson’s dimples before the omega leans forward to take him in his mouth again, more enthusiastic this time. Brock pets his hair, cupping the back of his head in gentle encouragement now, guiding Jefferson’s head up and down in shallow strokes.

“Good, baby,” he purrs, moaning when Jefferson looks up at him with gorgeous, wide eyes. “You’re doing so good…”

Jefferson hums pleasantly, seeming to grow even bolder as he tongue slides smoothly over the tip of Brock’s length. But when he takes it in again, he pushes just a little too far and yanks away coughing.

“Easy,” Brock sighs, kneeling down and pulling Jefferson closer. “It’s ok, just breathe.”

“Sorry,” Jefferson whispers. His laugh is self-deprecating as he flushes deeply. “Little too eager…”

“Don’t be sorry, you did just fine,” Brock smiles, pressing his lips to Jefferson’s, smirking when he tastes himself there. “Gonna let me get you in bed now?”

Jefferson’s quick to nod, smiling against Brock’s lips. “Of course.”

Peals of Jefferson’s laughter echo across the walls when Brock scoops him up without hesitation. Brock’s naked before they even hit the mattress, but when he pulls down Jefferson’s jeans, the dark blue panties he’s met with have him frozen.

“Oh jesus christ, baby…”

“You like ‘em?” Jefferson grins Brock can only nod dumbly, sliding one hand up the omega’s thigh, over the junction where creamy skin contrasts the deep fabric. “I decided to wear them just for you.”

Brock moans, his lips vibrating with kisses against Jefferson’s stomach, making the omega giggle again. “I’m the luckiest guy on the fucking planet…” 

“I don’t know about that,” Jefferson smiles, making Brock glance up. “I think we might be tied for the title.”

Brock’s whole body resonates with a laugh as he moves up for a kiss that Jefferson’s readily offers back, moaning as he arches up to press his body against Brock’s

“How about I use my mouth for you now?” Brock murmurs, relishing the moan that pours from Jefferson’s lips, followed by one little word:

“Please…”

Brock’s doesn’t hesitate, tugging soft panties down gorgeous legs that spread for him so willingly.

Jefferson’s a mess between his legs, sweet, musky slick coating the insides of his smooth thighs. Brock laps it up readily, drawing soft whimpers from Jefferson that turn to moans as soon as Brock’s tongue brushes his entrance.

“Lay on your front, baby.”

Jefferson obeys easily, tipping his head back for a kiss when Brock presses their bodies together. 

“Ti amo,” Brock whispers, catching Jefferson’s lip between his teeth as the omega sighs sweetly.

“Love you too.”

Brock presses kisses down the length of Jefferson’s spine, pausing at the little dimples just below the curve of his back to leave a hickey over each one, soft skin easily purpling under his teeth and tongue. He loves marking up Jefferson’s pretty body in ways that have the omega squirming by the time he let’s up.

“Come on, please…” Jefferson whines, voice muffled by the pillow he’s got his face pressed into. Brock chuckles, but does move down further, closing his eyes when he gets Jefferson’s taste on his tongue again.

It’s hard to resist the urge to tease with soft strokes, the high, silvery noises Jefferson’s lets slip out, and the way his hips tremble are just too tempting. 

“Oh god…” he whimpers, pulling one leg up to spread himself open more. 

“Feels good, baby?” Brock purrs, rubbing his thumb gently against Jefferson’s entrance, making him shudder.

“Really good,” Jefferson murmurs, looking down at Brock with eyes that could break his heart, so big and endearing. “Can you keep going?”

“‘Course, beautiful.” 

As soon as he dips down again, Jefferson’s got his face pressed back into the pillow to muffle his cry. Brock’s more insistent now, with long, firm strokes that have Jefferson’s breath shuddering out of him as he writhes against the bed, panting out strings of incoherent pleas and curses.

It’s one of Brock most favorite things in all the world, how Jefferson falls apart under him like this. And now, combined with the scent of Jefferson’s heat driving him nearly up the wall, it’s easily the most incredible thing he’s ever felt.

Brock growls softly, and Jefferson’s nearly sobs as Brock’s tongue works into him, pumping in and out slowly. More slick pushes out onto Brock’s tongue as he strokes his hand gently up and down Jefferson’s back, soothing every spot where Jefferson’s tensed up.

“Don’t stop!” Jefferson begs, his knuckles white as he fists the sheets. “Please, please don’t fucking stop…”

As if Brock would ever dream of it when Jefferson’s shaking like this, rocking his hips steadily back and forth. It only takes a little more. All he has to do is slip his hand under Jefferson’s body to tease his nipples and the omega’s coming with a gasp that breaks into a deep moan, his own hand flying down to grip Brock’s arm.

Only when Jefferson starts to shy away from his tongue does Brock pull back, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand before his arms slide effortlessly around Jefferson’s body to pull him close. Jefferson’s kisses come between his panting breaths, his nails grazing along Brock’s chest.

“I hope you know, I’m not even close to being done,” Jefferson grins after a moment, and Brock smirks back.

“I’d be concerned if you were,” Brock smiles. Jefferson grins, nuzzling into Brock’s neck. 

“It’s so different,” he murmurs. “Being in heat with you…everything’s so intense, like I’m on fire wherever you touch me.”

“I kinda like the sound of that,” Brock murmurs, stroking his fingers slowly up Jefferson’s side. Jefferson shivers, and Brock nearly does the same at the way Jefferson’s eyes dilate.

“I way more than ‘kinda’ like the feel of it,” he replies.

His lips are warm when they connect with Brock’s, opening in invitation for a curious tongue. And then, quite unexpectedly, Brock finds himself on his back, Jefferson’s hands pressing down on his shoulders. 

“You’re just full of surprises today” he grins, bringing a blush to Jefferson’s cheeks.

“Can’t hurt to try new things,” he shrugs. “Besides, you like looking at me, don’t you?”

“Hell yeah, I do,” Brock chuckles. “And I’m all for trying new things with you.”

Jefferson giggles sweetly, far too sweetly for the greedy kiss he steals from Brock seconds later.

Having Jefferson ride him is a beautiful sight Brock knows he’ll never get tired of. The omega’s body is perfect, perfect curves and softness under Brock’s hands as he guides him up and down, Jefferson’s hands braced on his chest. 

Jefferson finds a rhythm soon enough, moving up and down gracefully as soft sounds slip out of him, and as soon as he does Brock’s hands are everywhere. Up a smooth chest, down plump thighs, pinching at teasingly perked nipples and raking through tousled curls. He sucks in a gasp when Jefferson tips his head to sink his teeth into Brock’s wrist, fixing the alpha with blown dark eyes that scream a possessiveness Brock’s never seen on Jefferson before.

A possessiveness that has him growling deeply and pressing two fingers past Jefferson’s lips, drawing out a throaty purr as Jefferson laps them earnestly.

There are a few times when Jefferson seems nearly gone, just on the edge of completely losing control. Moments where his eyes roll back or his head lolls to the side. They’re also the moments when his whole body trembles and his scent flares and Brock feels the draw to take control, pin Jefferson down and let instinct take over. But those eyes always find him again and hold him down better than Jefferson’s hands ever could, clear and beautiful even behind the stray curls that fall over them.

Those eyes turn to twin blue abysses when Jefferson’s body bows with orgasm, tremors rolling through him and into Brock as he chokes out a harsh cry, nails biting into Brock’s skin. It sends Brock tumbling over the edge right along with him, pressing his hips up so his knot swells deep in Jefferson’s body. The white heat of tying together is instantaneous, and has them both crying out again as it flashes through them. Without even thinking, Brock flips Jefferson under him, pressing close, protective, as the air around them quivers in the wake of their release.

Time always gets fuzzy when they’re like this, as if years could pass without them knowing or caring, too lost in each other’s breath and scent and skin. But soon enough Brock’s fingers find their way to Jefferson’s, intertwining to ground them both as Jefferson leans up for a kiss.

“We could get spoiled like this,” he breathes.

“Tell me about it,” Brock chuckles. Good heatsex, what a thought… “You doin’ ok?”

“You really need to ask?” Jefferson shakes his head, looking away with a sigh. When the smile fades from his lips, Brock’s quick to brush a kiss against his cheek.

“What’s the matter, beautiful?”

“Nothing…” Jefferson shrugs, though Brock’s far from convinced. Thankfully, it only takes a few more nuzzling kisses to loosen Jefferson’s tongue.

“Just thinking about all the time I wasted trying to get by without being treated,” he mumbles.

“Come on, baby…” Brock props himself up, tenderly brushing Jefferson’s hair back until the omega looks up at him. “You don’t need to beat yourself up about that.”

“But we could’ve had it so much easier…” Jefferson’s voice catches in his throat. “I was just stupid—”

“Don’t say that,” Brock sighs. “You’re not stupid. It’s not easy to go pour your life story out to some stranger in the hopes that they’ll be able to fix you, ‘specially not with the previous experiences you’ve had. Besides…” He cocks a little grin. “Looking at the two of us, I doubt changing one thing could’ve made all this ‘easy’.”

Jefferson manages a little chuckle and nods weakly, though there’s still a touch of sadness in his eyes. When his hands press a little more insistently against Brock’s back, the alpha doesn’t hesitate to move in closer, molding their bodies together once more, faces nestled in the curves of one another’s necks, their breath condensing on the delicate skin there. Brock’s chest tightens around the warmth that fills it. He’s never felt more safe in his life than he does when he and Jefferson hold each other like this.

“I just wish I’d gone to the doctor sooner,” Jefferson finally whispers. “So we could’ve skipped some of those really awful weeks…”

“I know,” Brock nods, sighing softly. He closes his eyes, nosing into Jefferson’s hair. “I wish I’d asked you out on a date that day at the coffee shop. Skipped all the bullshit of just trying to have sex with no strings attached.”

Jefferson laughs, but it’s just a touch too breathy. Brock knows he’s got tears in his eyes even without looking. “You just weren’t ready is all,” he murmurs. “You got there eventually.”

“Just like you weren’t ready to go to a doctor.” He leans back just in time to see Jefferson’s eyes widen, and presses a kiss to his forehead. “But you got there eventually, too.”

Jefferson’s lower lip pushes out, his eyes crinkling as he draws in a shaky little breath. When one tear escapes the corner of his eye, Brock’s lips are there to catch it. 

“I guess that’s what matters, right?” he continues as Jefferson’s arms wrap tight around his shoulders. “As long as we get there eventually.”

He feels Jefferson nod against his shoulder. “I guess,” the omega sighs, one hand sliding through Brock’s hair. Brock’s eyes fall closed again, content.

“I love you,” he murmurs.

“I love you, too,” Jefferson replies. “And thank you, I needed to hear that.”

“Anytime, beautiful. And I’ll be sure to make up for all those dates we missed out on.”

That earns him a smile, radiant in the soft light of the sunset that creeps in through the window.

******

‘Dating’ turns out to be a lot harder than Brock had ever expected.

For one, it’s hard to be away from Jefferson. It just is, much as Brock feels like a dumb kid for it. But at least he’s not alone in his struggle, since Jefferson makes it clear on multiple occasions that being away from Brock is hard for him too.

One good thing he can say in favor of the painful separation is that, when they are together, they’re a mess of fluttery hesitation, aching desire, and giggling happiness. Like falling in love all over again each time, minus all the fear that had plagued Brock the first time around.

Jefferson’s a clever one, Brock has to give him that. He’d known this would be good for them, even when Brock couldn’t see it. 

The other hard part of dating would be, well, the actual dating. They alternate who gets to pick the date, but whenever it’s Brock’s turn, figuring out where to go and what to do seems far too daunting a task. And the he’s got to start coming up with new gift ideas too, when Jefferson’s apartment starts overflowing with both dried and fresh flowers.

Chocolates work well, and even a very nervewracking trip to a lingerie shop turns out pretty great. Brock will never forget the look on Jefferson’s face when he’d opened the package, or how his breath had started to pick up when he ran the delicate silk of the black stockings through his fingers.

They’d barely made their reservation that evening, and once they got back, they’d stayed up most of the night…

Maria and Natasha think he’s adorable. They’ve said it to his face more than once. Brock takes it in stride, since they are helping him by suggesting places for him to take Jefferson, and, Jefferson admits, places for Jefferson to take him. Even Jack’s helpful, throwing out stories about the dates his sisters went on that turn out to be surprisingly good ideas. The rollerskating date ends up one of the best they have, laughing at themselves and with each other the whole time because neither one has any clue what they’re doing. It’s more than worth waking up a little bruised and sore the next day.

Other dates leave them sore too, because Brock considers a self-defense lesson a date as long as they grab a meal together once they’re finished for the day. Jefferson never once complains, even seems to enjoy himself, squealing out trills of giggles each time he figures out a new combination.

Brock is floored by what a fast learner Jefferson is. The omega mirrors his movements with shocking ease, though at first he’s more graceful than he is forceful, hesitant about putting strength behind his movements. But with practice and coaxing, it’s not long before he’s throwing solid punches and twisting his body in smooth strokes to fight out of the different holds Brock pins him in.

A layer of lithe muscle builds on him with training, but he never loses his softness, even with the growing strength hiding underneath. It’s a thrilling contrast that Brock finds himself itching to admire every time he gets his hands on Jefferson. All it takes is a little pressure against smooth limbs and the omega will flex for him, the little flashes of muscle pooling warmth in Brock’s core.

Which of course only makes things more interesting when Jefferson’s in heat and markedly more aggressive, much to Brock’s delight. It’s a rush to have his demure Jefferson flip them or pin him down and have it feel like he’s actually being overpowered. And if Jefferson’s smirks and laughter are anything to go by, he’s very much excited by it, too.

But still they go home to their own apartments, sharing a bed only half as often as they don’t. It aches to reach out and feel a cool pillow instead of a warm body, but at least now they’re just a phonecall away from each other. When Brock has a nightmare or Jefferson can’t sleep, they’re there for each other, talking each other down until one or both of them falls asleep on the phone.

Jefferson figures out his injections with Jack’s help, and Brock’s sessions with Diana get less traumatic as time goes by.

Maybe it’s not perfect, maybe it doesn’t have to be. But it’s good, and it’s theirs. 

And it’s promising.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More schmoop. Shameless schmoop. I have no regrets.

The sun’s bright as Brock walks up to the shop, pleasantly warm in his pale grey shirt. Long sleeves still cover up the scarring on his arm, but the thinness of the fabric keeps him comfortable.

As soon as Belle catches sight of him through the window, she waves, and her turquoise eyes crinkling pleasantly at the corners when she flashes a smile. 

“Hi!” she calls, her Australian accent rich and welcoming from behind a bookshelf when Brock walks in. “Jefferson’s helping a customer in the back. I can go grab him for you, if you like.”

“Nah, if it’s ok I’ll just head back there myself,” Brock shrugs. Belle nods, pointing him in the right direction before returning back to tidying the neat shelves. Brock thanks her, winding his way through the colorfully mismatched displays until he hears Jefferson’s laughter, golden and familiar. 

He spots the omega soon after, caught up in showing an intricately embroidered shawl to a young woman, and leans against the nearest wall to take in the happy sound of Jefferson’s voice, how enthusiastically he talks about the patterns on the shawl and compliments the woman wearing it. For a minute or two, Brock manages to go peacefully unnoticed, until the customer catches sight of him over Jefferson’s shoulder and smiles knowingly.

“You have an admirer,” she murmurs, a thick, Eastern European accent coloring her voice. Jefferson follows her gaze, his confused expression breaking into a brilliant smile the moment he sees Brock.

“Hi sweetheart,” he laughs softly, extending his hand for Brock to grasp. “You’re early.”

“Actually, I’m late,” Brock grins, nodding towards the woman in front of them. An alpha, much to his surprise. “I didn’t want to interrupt.”

Jefferson blushes slightly, looking back to her. “Sorry, Wanda, this is my boyfriend, Brock,” he murmurs.

“I assumed,” she nods. “Nice to meet you.”

“Same to you,” Brock replies. Wanda smiles, and Brock can’t tell if it’s shy or aloof.

“Thank you for helping me,” she says to Jefferson, slipping the shawl from her shoulders and folding it over her arms. “I’m sure Belle can check this out for me.”

“Ok, anytime,” Jefferson smiles, waiting until Wanda’s disappeared around the corner before leaning in to kiss Brock. “Sorry, she’s a regular, we always end up chatting.”

“Nothing to be sorry for,” Brock chuckles. “You ready to go?”

“Yeah, just let me get my things,” Jefferson nods. He leads Brock back to the front of the store, leaning behind the counter to grab the messenger bag he always carries and sling it over his shoulder, and waving a quick goodbye to Belle.

“Have fun,” she calls in reply. “And don’t worry about Mr. Gold, I’ll tell him you went to lunch.”

“Thank you,” Jefferson smiles. The door jingles as they walk out and start heading down the street. 

“He’s her mate as she calls him by his surname?” Brock laughs, slipping his arm around Jefferson’s shoulder.

“Their surname,” Jefferson corrects, grinning up at Brock before shrugging. “I think it’s like a special thing for them. I mean, if you see them together, they really adore each other.”

“I believe you,” Brock nods. “So tell me about…Wanda, was it? You guys seemed friendly.”

“She’s really nice,” Jefferson smiles. “Comes in every few weeks looking for something new to wear. I always set aside anything red for her, it’s her favorite color.” He laughs softly, dancing his finger along the silky scarf he’s got looped around his neck. “Honestly? I’m kinda intimidated by her.”

“I can see why,” Brock smirks, kissing Jefferson’s forehead lightly. The omega’s curls blow lightly in the breeze, tickling his nose. “Hope you’re hungry.”

“Starving,” Jefferson giggles. “Can we go to that little diner?”

Brock cocks a grin, brushing his fingers against Jefferson’s cheek. “That’s exactly where I’m headed.”

The diner’s a quaint little place, the kind with bright colors and a 1950s vibe. Jefferson thinks it’s cute. Brock thinks it’s cute that all the waitresses know the omega’s face the second he enters. 

Soon enough they’re settled in, Jefferson with a sandwich cut into dainty triangles, while Brock goes for the burger instead, along with the morning’s third coffee.

“I can see you doing that, you know,” Brock mutters after the second time Jefferson steals a couple fries off his plate while he’s glancing the other way.

“I know,” Jefferson simpers. “But you’re not gonna eat them all, and it’s a shame to let them go to waste.”

Brock rolls his eyes, but obediently spins his plate so the fries are more easily accessible to Jefferson, who flashes a smile before diving in for more. Brock chuckles softly as the omega licks leftover salt off his fingers in quick strokes between bites. He’s staring and it earns him an eyebrow cocked in his direction.

“What?” Jefferson asks.

“Nothing,” Brock shrugs, chuckling softly. “I’m just embarrassingly in love with you.”

Jefferson’s cheeks go pink at once, and he bites his lip before replying. “Why embarrassingly?” It’s coy, inviting, in spite of the almost vulnerable flutter of Jefferson’s long eyelashes. It’s like looking at the sun sometimes, Brock has to look away just out of self-preservation.

“Oh, you know…” he sighs dramatically, creating just the slightest crack in Jefferson’s innocent face for a grin. “Because it gets really hard to resist the urge to do embarrassing things in public with you.”

“What sort of things?” Jefferson’s voice is barely audible now, with just a hint of hesitancy. He’s still so easily flustered when Brock teases him, and the fact that they’re in the middle of a restaurant probably isn’t helping. Brock lets himself smile slowly, watching Jefferson’s eyes widen ever so slightly in response, his breath picking up. When he starts to worry his lip and flush a deep red, Brock decides to take a tamer route.

He slides his foot forward until it brushes against Jefferson’s, making the omega start. But it only takes Brock rubbing lightly up along his foot again before he catches on, muffling his giggles with a hand clamped over his mouth.

He nudges back, much to Brock’s delight, resting his cheek on his hand as his foot slides gently over the toe of Brock’s shoe. Brock mimics him, and then moves up further, rubbing at the little space he knows is bare between Jefferson’s shoe and the cuff of his pants. Jefferson giggles again, teeth biting down hard on his lip in an attempt to keep himself quiet.

It’s so pure, sharing little moments of flirting like this, innocent and sweet. Brock can’t help but think it’s probably the sort of thing you’re supposed to get out of your system when you’re a kid, but neither of them ever had a chance. The surprise Jefferson lights up with would tell Brock enough about how new the experience is for him, even if the omega hadn’t told him so many stories about being disregarded by people his own age, in addition to the adults in his life. And Brock damn well knows he was never playing footsie under the table when he was a teenager. Well…maybe to piss somebody off, or just make them uncomfortable, but not like this. Not to elicit soft giggles and glowing smiles while warmth blooms and flutters in his stomach.

“I love you,” Jefferson murmurs.

Brock feels a stupid grin on his face now, matching the pretty one curling Jefferson's lips. “I love you too.”

It’s corny and he knows it but _christ_ , he wants this always. Wants to wake up and fall asleep to that smile and those eyes and that voice everyday. He remembers the paper folded in his back pocket, feels it start to burn a hole there. He did have a purpose today… He clears his throat.

“There’s actually something I wanted to ask you about,” he says, wiping off his hands. 

“Oh?” Jefferson’s eyebrows raise as he blinks expectantly. The butterflies in Brock stomach take a more aggressive turn. He nods, fishing the paper ad out of his pocket and unfolding it before sliding it across the table. 

“My—uh…my landlady’s got a new building, pretty much midway between our two apartments,” he explains, licking his lips as he watches Jefferson scan the paper with a vague smile. “The apartments are bigger, a little more expensive, but um, I-I thought…maybe we could go look at a few…?”

Jefferson’s looking back at him now, his smile having widened to reveal soft dimples and adorably crooked teeth. A hopeful smile. “Are you asking me if I want to get an apartment with you?”

“Yeah,” Brock nods, shrugging reflexively as his hands wedge under his legs. “Y-you don’t have to say yes if you’re not ready for it yet, I just thought, since it’s been a few months, and we have been missing each other, it might be nice to have a place of our own?”

He glances up once he realizes he’s been staring down at the table and a weight lifts off his shoulder when he finds Jefferson nodding. “I’ve been thinking about that too,” the omega replies. “And I’d love to go look at apartments with you.”

“Oh thank fuck…” Brock can’t help but say it, but at least Jefferson laughs.

“Did you really think I’d say no?”

“Well I wasn’t sure,” Brock shrugs, grinning like an idiot once again. “I mean, getting a place together is a big step. You could say no and I wouldn’t blame you.”

“I guess,” Jefferson nods. He holds out his upturned hand with a beaming smile, waiting until Brock takes it gently in his own.“But it’s not as if we’ve never lived together before…” he continues as his thumb strokes the back of Brock’s hand. “And like you said, it’s been a few months. I’m more than ready to live with you again.” 

Brock brings Jefferson’s hand up to his mouth for a light kiss. “Me too,” he sighs. “You know how much I’ve been missing you.”

“And you know how much I’ve been missing you,” Jefferson replies, mirroring Brock’s grin. “So should we go this weekend?”

“Sounds good to me,” Brock nods, his smile growing into a smirk. “Provided I still get to take you out, too.” 

“Of course,” Jefferson giggles. When Brock leans over the table for a kiss, Jefferson’s hand raises to cup his cheek.

“Love you,” he murmurs.

“Love you, too.”

******

They decide that a three-bedroom apartment would be best, since, though it was awfully cozy in Brock’s two-bedroom, they had been a little on top of each other. Brock gives his landlady, Daphne, a call to tell her they’re interested and she’s more than happy to give them a tour that weekend. Brock’s fairly confident they’ll have no trouble getting the place if they decide they like it. He’s been a good tenant, after all, the woman adores him; she spends half their phone conversation gushing about how sweet it is that he’s finally settling down with someone.

Jefferson meets him in front of the new building that Saturday, their hands readily reaching for each other and intertwining as they kiss. Brock catches the scent of lavender immediately, coupled with the warmer, natural scent of Jefferson’s skin, and can’t help a soft sigh.

“How do I look?” Jefferson asks when he leans back, glancing down at himself.

“Gorgeous,” Brock smiles. “As always.”

“Brock, I mean it,” Jefferson sighs, and Brock catches the hint of nervousness in his voice. “I wanted to look nice…”

“I can tell, you did a good job of it,” he nods, glancing over the pale blue of Jefferson’s lacey top, almost the exact color of his eyes. “I mean it when I say you’re gorgeous.” When he leans in to kiss Jefferson’s cheek, the omega’s eyelashes flutter softly and heat rises on his skin.

“Thank you,” he murmurs. “I’m sorry…I’m just nervous.”

“It’s alright,” Brock shrugs. “And you don’t need to be nervous. She’s gonna love you.”

Jefferson rolls his eyes, but does nod. “Then I guess it’s time we went inside to meet her.”

They ride the elevator up to the second floor, Jefferson tucked against Brock’s side the whole time. When the omega’s hands flutter around the high collar of his shirt, tugging it up for a third time, Brock sighs and places another soft kiss on the omega’s cheek. 

“They’re hidden, don’t worry.”

Jefferson’s sigh is shaky, but he does smile and stop fidgeting. “Thank you.”

The older woman beams as soon as she sees them, reaching out to clasp Jefferson’s hand once Brock’s introduced them. “It’s so good to finally meet you,” she gushes. 

“Nice to meet you too,” Jefferson smiles, though he draws closer to Brock’s side, shy as ever. 

“Thanks for letting us come see the place,” Brock interjects, inviting a pat on his arm. 

“No problem, dear,” she smiles, before turning and leading them into the new apartment. 

The walls are a pale cream, neutral so as to appeal to just about anyone and they catch the light streaming in from the windows, surprising Brock with how open it feels. That may change once there’s furniture, of course, but he’s nonetheless impressed.

“The kitchen’s right over there,” Daphne says, pointing to the left where countertops form a neat little square around the far corner of the open living space. “No formal dining room, but there’s enough space for a table.”

“As if we’d know what to do with a formal dining room,” Jefferson murmurs, making Brock laugh. The woman glances over her shoulder at them, smiling fondly.

“Then there’s the smaller bathroom right over there,” she continues, pointing right this time. “And the doors to the bedrooms are all in the hallway.”

Jefferson doesn’t hesitate to peak into both smaller bedrooms, one of which is a funny L-shape, while the other is bright and feels much larger than it actually is with windows on two walls. 

“I think that first one might make a pretty good gym,” Jefferson smiles, slotting himself against Brock’s side again. “Unless you really want all those windows when you’re working out.”

“Nah, I’m not that much of an exhibitionist,” Brock chuckles. “So what would we do with that other room?”

“No idea,” Jefferson smiles. “It’s beautiful, though, with all that light. I’m sure we’d think of something.”

“And then we have the master bedroom,” Daphne says, interrupting their thoughts as she opens the next door and ushers them in. 

“Oh wow,” Jefferson breathes, his eyes blinking wide as he manages a weak little laugh and Brock has to nod in agreement. The room’s more than big enough for them to share, plenty of space for all their things, and again, more windows. Not much of a view, just the street and the other buildings across the way, but it’s hard to complain about a room that actually lets you breathe.

Jefferson wanders away from Brock’s side again, wandering the perimeter of the room and letting his fingers drift across the window frame. The sunlight finds his hair, lighting it up with reds and gold, and Brock can’t help but grin.

“Found yourself a pretty one, didn’t you?” Daphne murmurs to him, smiling as well.

“Guess so,” he chuckles. “I’m pretty lucky.”

“Are you talking about me?” Jefferson calls, glancing over his shoulder at Brock.

“Only to say good things, beautiful,” Brock replies. Jefferson rolls his eyes and blushes rosy. His loop around the room leads him to peek into the bathroom next, and Brock knows they’re sold as soon as he sees the omega’s face light up.

“Oh you need to come see this…” he breathes. Brock’s at his side in a second.

“Nice, huh?” he grins. No kidding, twin sinks plus a shower with a full tub. By Brock’s standards, that might just qualify as luxurious. 

“There’s a bathtub,” Jefferson murmurs, dreamy. “I’ve always wanted a real bathtub…”

“And that thing looks big enough for us both,” Brock chuckles.

“Is that an offer?” Jefferson grins when he glances up at Brock, who leans in for a kiss. 

“Maybe so.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Daphne step quietly out of the room, and as soon as they’re alone he takes Jefferson’s hand gently in his. “Do you like it?”

“I do,” Jefferson nods. “Do you like it?”

“Yeah,” Brock shrugs. “You know, we don’t have to just pick this because it’s the first place we’ve seen. We could shop around if you want.”

“I’ll be honest…that sounds way more stressful than I want this to be,” Jefferson sighs, breaking off into a soft laugh that Brock joins him in. “I mean, this is right in our neighborhood, we know where everything is around here…and it’s gorgeous.” His sigh is a little more sad this time, and Brock instinctively squeezes his hand. “Plus it’s someone you know, so we’re not going to get turned down because we’re not a normal couple…”

“Is that really something you’re worried about?” Brock asks. Jefferson’s half-hearted little shrug tells him all he really needs to know.

“I had a few people refuse to rent to me when I was first looking for a place,” he murmurs, then laughs, sarcastic. “Once they realized I was an omega, they assumed I was just a slut who was gonna cause trouble…” His face screws up into an unhappy little frown that tugs at Brock’s heart. “They weren’t exactly wrong about the first part…”

“Hey, don’t say that.” It only takes a gentle pull, urging him closer, and Jefferson’s head is rested in Brock’s shoulder in a second. “That’s bullshit and you know it.” He rests his cheek on Jefferson’s hair, nuzzling into his scent. “Hell, even if it were true, it’s nobody’s damn business, and they shouldn’t turn you down because of it.”

Jefferson sighs, the sound muffled against Brock skin. It takes a moment before he raises his head, but he does so with a soft smile. “You’re so sweet,” he murmurs. Brock’s pretty sure he feels himself blush.

“Yeah, well, I try,” he shrugs, pressing a kiss to Jefferson’s forehead as the omega giggles. “So should I go tell her that we wanna get this place?”

“I think you should,” Jefferson replies, his smile broadening as his voice turns dreamy again. “We’re getting an apartment together…”

“We’re getting an apartment together,” Brock repeats, find himself laughing a little too. “Kinda surreal, huh?”

“In a really good way,” Jefferson nods, stealing a kiss from Brock’s lips.

Daphne’s happy to get them through all the paperwork that day, and it feels pretty great to see their names signed next to each other, even if Brock jerky signature looks a little funny next to Jefferson’s elegant, looping cursive. She lets them have another few minutes in the apartment while she goes to file everything and get them their copy of them key. Jefferson doesn’t hesitate to cuddle up to Brock, warm and comfortable as they find a spot in the sun.

“You know, I’m gonna have to disagree with you actually,” he murmurs, making Brock raise an eyebrow.

“Oh?”

“Yeah,” he nods. “This is way more than ‘kinda’ surreal. It’s…” He trails off, nuzzling into Brock’s shoulder. “I don’t even know. But I like it.”

“Me too,” Brock chuckles. “I’m looking forward to having you to come home to.”

Jefferson giggles softly, his hands stroking down Brock’s chest as he leans back a little. “You know I was thinking about it…and I think it was about a year ago that I started seeing you in that cafe. Every Saturday, like clockwork.”

“Really?” Brock laughs, his fingers finding their way up to wrap themselves loosely in Jefferson’s curls. A whole year… 

Jefferson’s nodding slowly, a small smile creeping onto his face. “I never told you this, but I always used to look forward to seeing you. There was just something about you, I couldn’t look away.” He’s blushing now, glancing down as if he wants to hide it. “But you never smiled. I was always hoping that maybe you’d look over at me, and maybe I’d make you smile.” He shakes his head. “I’m sorry, it’s silly…”

“No it’s not,” Brock sighs. It’s anything but… “Makes me feel like an asshole for never looking up at you, but it’s not silly.”

“To be fair, it always was pretty early in the morning for you,” Jefferson teases. “I mean, before ten o’clock you’re barely even a real person. You hadn’t even had coffee yet.”

“True enough,” Brock laughs, dissolving into a sigh as he searches Jefferson’s face. They’d been so close to each other, he’d been passing this beautiful person by for months. “I can’t believe I never noticed you…”

“Well, you did eventually,” Jefferson smiles. “Once I was about as subtle as a ton of bricks about what I wanted, but what else is new?”

Brock rolls his eyes. He’ll cop to that. “You think the fact that you’d seen me around made a difference that night when you picked me out?”

“I know it did,” Jefferson murmurs, brushing their noses together. “I’d been pining for so long, I just needed a shove in your direction.”

Brock nods, tucking Jefferson’s hair back gently as he finds himself getting lost in blue-green eyes. How different would everything have been if he’d just looked up once and seen Jefferson, a perfect stranger, looking back from across that cafe? There’s no way he wouldn’t’ve smiled back, and he can picture how Jefferson would’ve blushed and looked away immediately… 

Would he have had the courage to walk over and ask to sit down? Maybe… Jefferson’s so sweet, so shy, he can’t imagine being intimidated. 

It could’ve been so different.

“Now I’m going to be kicking myself forever because I didn’t notice you until I was drunk in a bar,” he mutters. “I’m such a fucking jackass…”

“Brock…” The little whine is enough to make him look up, and when he does he’s met with a warm kiss that has him sighing. “I didn’t tell you that to upset you,” Jefferson whispers against his lips. “I don’t care about the way we met. I’m happy now, I’m not gonna regret anything that happened to lead me to being happy. And you shouldn’t either, ok?”

Brock sighs again, heavy, but the release is palpable as his arms tighten around Jefferson’s waist. “Ok,” he murmurs, shaking his head. “Guess I’m just still worried that one day you’ll wake up and realize you don’t want a jackass like me…”

“I know,” Jefferson sighs, his arms curling around Brock’s neck as his head rests on the alpha’s shoulder. “Sometimes I still worry that you’ll decide you don’t want me, that you’d rather have a normal, pretty, girl omega who won’t get you looks on the street when you hold her hand.”

Brock can’t resist laughing at the image. “Baby, you know I don’t even like women, right?”

“I do,” Jefferson sighs. “And I also know that you love me, so there’s no reason for me to keep thinking it, but I do. And every time I do I just tell myself to let it go, because it’s ridiculous.” He smiles sweetly, carding his fingers through Brock’s hair. “Almost as ridiculous as you thinking I’m going to leave you…”

He hates that he needs to hear it, but he does, and his breath is shaky as he hides his face in Jefferson’s hair. The omega’s hands stroke his back gently, pressing close as Brock holds him tight. “I’ll always choose you,” Jefferson sighs. “And if it makes you feel any better, there are probably universes out there where we did meet in a cafe, or at work, or in school, or on some adventure…but as long as we meet, no matter how it happens, I know I’d always end up choosing you. So don’t ever let yourself think that I’d leave.”

Brock hears his own breath catch in his throat, and his eyes squeeze shut when he feels a burn in them. All he can do is nod, not wanting to ruin the moment by speaking. Jefferson’s so earnest, so open and honest. Even if Brock doesn’t think it’s in his nature to believe, Jefferson could change his mind.

“You’re perfect,” he finally manages to stutter out, smiling when Jefferson vibrates with a giggle in his arms. “You’re just…god, you’re perfect…”

“Oh I don’t know about that,” Jefferson sighs, leaning back to press their foreheads together. “Nobody’s perfect.”

“Well, you’re perfect for me, how’s that?” Brock amends. Jefferson’s lips find his, sweet and chaste.

“That, I can live with,” he replies. 

The moment lasts a little longer, the warm light from the window setting Jefferson’s eyes a pale grey, like snow clouds. Finally, Jefferson grins.

“So are you gonna be ok when this place is full of boxes because we don’t know where to put anything?”

“Probably,” Brock chuckles. “I’ve been getting better, I left two whole dishes in my sink this morning.”

“I’m so proud,” Jefferson giggles, cupping Brock’s jaw and kissing his forehead.

Daphne comes back soon after and hands them the keys to the apartment, and they set a date so they can move in. When she tells them “welcome home”, Jefferson’s happy laugh lights up the apartment brighter than the sun.

******

Almost immediately, they’re launched into a flurry of activity trying to get both their apartments packed up so they can move into the new place. Natasha lends them the boxes she used when she moved in with Maria, and they manage to scrounge up a few more to be filled with books and clothes and any other number of odds and ends, too. More than once, actually going out on a date gets exchanged for sitting on the floors of each other’s apartments, just looking through things and boxing them up. 

Brock’s baffled by the amount of stuff they both have. It doesn’t look like nearly so much when it’s all put away…

“Do I really own this many books…?”

Brock will be forever grateful that Jefferson’s the one who said it, after they’ve taped up the second box and it doesn’t even look like they’ve made a dent in his collection.

“Apparently,” Brock chuckles. Jefferson shakes his head, dragging another stack of books closer and beginning to look through them.

“I didn’t even remember that I had all of these…I haven’t read some of them in years,” he sighs, his lips pursing into a little frown. “I haven’t even read some of them at all…”

“I was like that when I was looking through my DVDs,” Brock grins, taking the books as Jefferson hands them over, tucking them neatly into the next available box. “Found a whole bunch of stuff you couldn’t pay me to watch nowadays…” 

“What? Like weird porn or something?” Jefferson teases, making Brock bark a laugh.

“Come on, who in their right mind pays for porn when the internet exists?” he snorts. Jefferson rolls his eyes. “Nah, I mean more like those cheesy exercise tapes where everybody’s way too excited.” He chuckles, letting a smirk spread on his face. “Who knows though, maybe those do count as weird porn.”

“Oh my god…” The exasperation in Jefferson’s voice just makes Brock’s smirk broaden.

“I’m just saying,” he shrugs, leaning to nudge Jefferson playfully. “Buff, sweaty guys in tiny shorts, I’m sure it could do the job for somebody.”

“I’m not listening to this,” Jefferson scoffs, but the grin on his face is audible even before he breaks into giggles. Brock laughs as well before they both sigh. There’s a pause, and Jefferson’s chin rests on Brock’s shoulder. 

“Do you actually ever watch porn?”

Brock turns towards Jefferson at the question so their noses brush together, glad for the distraction from packing. “Not really,” he says, shrugging the shoulder Jefferson isn’t utilizing as a headrest. “I did when I was younger, but, I don’t know…even if I had it playing, I was always more focused on whatever I could come up with in my own head. Eventually I just phased out the background noise.”

“Makes sense,” Jefferson sighs, tipping his head thoughtfully. Or perhaps invitingly, Brock thinks as Jefferson’s warm breath ghosts over his lips. “Everyone always says it’s all fake anyway…”

“Well, that never really bothered me,” Brock chuckles. “I mean, so is a movie, when you think about it. You know everybody’s on a set, saying their lines and doing what a director tells to, but you can still enjoy the story.”

“I hadn’t thought about it that way,” Jefferson smiles, picking his head up and running a hand through his hair. “I’ve never looked at anything like that, though, so what do I know?”

“Just never had an interest, or…?”

Jefferson shrugs, fidgeting with one of the pins keeping his hair back from his face. “I guess it’s kinda the same hang-up I had about sex when we were first together,” he murmurs. “It always felt weird, made me nervous.”

Brock nods, leaning over to kiss Jefferson’s cheek and smiling when he feels the omega’s dimple under his lips. “Don’t suppose you’d have any interest now?”

Jefferson shakes his head, blushing softly. “No,” he murmurs. “I mean, if I have a need like that, I’m probably going to want to share it with you, instead of dealing with it myself.”

“Hard for me to complain about that.” And then the meaning of Jefferson’s words clicks in his mind. His eyebrows about shoot up to his hairline as he pulls back to be met with a pout from Jefferson. “Wait…are you saying you’ve never—?”

Jefferson’s blush deepens, and he bites his lip while he hesitates, scanning Brock’s face with uncertain eyes. “Well if I’m being honest…” he shrugs. “I never really had any interest in sex or sexuality until I started getting close to you. So, no…I never had an urge to. I didn’t even really like thinking about it.”

“You never told me that before,” Brock murmurs. Can’t help being surprised…

“I know,” Jefferson sighs, his gaze falling. “I…I didn’t want you to think I was weird.”

“You’re not weird.” The words leap out of his throat, catching Jefferson, and even Brock himself, a little by surprise. But he does mean them, that he knows.

“Are you sure?” Jefferson laughs weakly, once he’s recovered himself. “I always thought I was, I mean, people are supposed to want sex.”

“Not everyone does,” Brock shrugs. “Nat’s like you, actually. She’s never had any interest.”

Jefferson’s eyes go wide in a flash, making Brock smile. “Really?”

“Yeah.”

“What about now? She’s with Maria, do they…?”

“I don’t know,” Brock shrugs. “I never asked. I bet she’d talk to you about it though.” The thought sobers him, and he sighs softly. “Bet she’d talk to you about a lot of things…”

“What’s that mean?”

Brock hesitates, his gaze flicking back and forth between Jefferson’s penetrating grey eyes. “It’s not really my story to tell…” he finally settles on. “Let’s just that: what happened to you when you were seventeen, she’d understand a lot of it.”

Jefferson hesitates, his brow furrowing softly before all of a sudden his face opens with shock. “O-oh…”

“Yeah,” Brock sighs. “If you ever needed anybody to talk to about that, she’d probably be a good person to go to.”

Jefferson nods slowly. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he murmurs, his eyes far away now. There’s a few moments’ pause, then Jefferson turns back to the stack of books in front of him, glancing through the titles and setting a couple off to the side. Brock accepts the remaining pile, but his eyes never leave Jefferson’s face, fixing on the funny little frown twisting soft lips.

“I know we never really talk about it,” he starts, turning his gaze back to the box in front of him. “But does what happened ever still bother you?”

“Of course it does,” Jefferson mumbles. “I try to not think about it, but every once in a while it’ll just creep in.”

“Like me with what happened to my brother,” Brock nods. He sets the books in his hands down carefully, fusing with the order until they line up neatly. “Do you ever—”

“Brock, I really don’t want to talk about it.”

Brock flinches a little at the biting finality in Jefferson’s voice. “Ok…” 

He chances a glance up when he hears Jefferson sigh, and he’s met with reddening eyes and a quivering lip. “I’m sorry,” Jefferson sighs, just barely above a pained whisper. “It was just so awful. The first _year_ after was so awful, I don’t want to go back to that—”

“Baby, it’s ok,” Brock interrupts when Jefferson starts scrubbing at his eyes roughly, covering those soft hands with his own and coaxing them away from watery eyes. “I get it, I’m not gonna force you to talk about it.”

Jefferson nods weakly, hiding his face behind his hair. Brock doesn’t hesitate to pull him in close, stroking a gentle hand up and down Jefferson’s back when the omega’s breaths stutter in his throat. He kisses Jefferson’s forehead, his heart clenching painfully when Jefferson starts to tremble.

“I keep finding all these baby things while I’m going through my stuff,” Jefferson murmurs. “Little blankets or toys or shoes, stuff I got before I decided not to…” He trails off with a painful, humorless laugh. Brock just nods. No need to say it. “I keep thinking I should get rid of it but I just can’t.” 

“You don’t have to,” Brock says quickly.

“But I feel like I should,” Jefferson repeats, pressing more insistently into Brock. “It’s been five years and I’m still clinging onto a bunch of stuff I don’t need just because—” His voice breaks off and he covers his face with a little whimper. Brock sighs softly as he presses more kisses to the omega’s hair, nuzzling the soft curls.

“If it makes you feel any better, you know I still keep that ratty old jacket because it reminds me of Aiden…” he finally murmurs, and he feels Jefferson smile weakly where his lips are nestled against Brock’s neck.

“Nothing wrong with your ratty old jacket,” Jefferson mumbles, making Brock laugh softly, hopefully.

“I know,” he sighs. “And there’s nothing wrong with you keeping that baby stuff you got for your daughter.” Jefferson chokes out what might’ve been an attempt at a giggle, but end up more of a little sob as his shoulders quiver again. Brock leans down to press a kiss to the exposed curve of Jefferson’s neck, closing his eyes as he loses himself in Jefferson warm sweetness for a moment. “I don’t think anybody ever really gets over a loss like that,” he continues, his lips still brushing Jefferson’s throat, right over his scars. “I think you can accept it, but I don’t think you ever really get over it.” He sighs, running his fingers through Jefferson’s hair and watching the curls tangle around his fingers. “I don’t think anyone should ask you to get over it either.”

Jefferson sniffles weakly, managing a little nod as he readjusts his head on Brock’s shoulder. It takes a moment, but when he finally lets out a heavy sigh, Brock manages a smile at the lightness he can feel easing through the omega’s body.

“I’ve always been so scared I would get pregnant again,” he whispers. “I knew I couldn’t go through that again, I couldn’t give up another baby…”

“I know,” Brock sighs. The thought may send a rush of nervousness through him, but he has to ask. “You want to have kids, don’t you?”

Jefferson hesitates, but the answer comes soon enough. “More than anything.” His voice is tiny, maybe even a little scared. Brock’s heart breaks at the sound. “I wanted the time to be right, so my baby could have a good life…but it’s the one thing I’ve always known I wanted.”

Brock nods slowly. When the time is right… 

“What about you?”

He glances up at the sound of Jefferson’s voice, finding his eyes level with the omega’s. He shrugs—a lame gesture—but he can only be honest. “I’ve never really considered it before,” he mutters. “I don’t hate the idea, but I guess I’ve never given it enough thought to have an answer.”

This time it’s Jefferson’s turn to give a slow nod, his gaze drifting down, far away. Brock instantly feels guilty, wracking his brain for something to say as he leans over to kiss Jefferson’s cheek.

“Can I ask you something else?”

“Of course,” Jefferson replies, sitting up a little straighter. Brock smiles softly, raising one hand to gently brush away the last few tears clinging to Jefferson’s eyelashes.

“Did you ever give your baby girl a name?”

The question hangs in the air for a moment as Jefferson’s eyes widen and his lips fall open, but it’s not long before he starts to nod his head, his cheek resting against Brock’s hand.

“Grace,” he murmurs, letting his eyes fall closed. “Her name was Grace.”

Brock’s smile only gains as he brushes his thumb lightly over Jefferson’s cheek. It’s a beautiful name, he wouldn’t expect any less. “Grace,” he repeats, and a smile breaks out on Jefferson’s face as soon as he does, shimmery grey eyes opening to gaze back at him. “I like it.”

Jefferson giggles, watery and weak, but genuine nonetheless. “Thank you,” he murmurs, his hand reaching to grasp Brock’s when the alpha leans in to kiss him. It’s soft and quick, followed by another, then another, each sweeter and longer than the last until they’re resting their foreheads together, sharing a smile.

“I’m always here for you if you need to talk,” Brock murmurs. “You know that, right?”

“I do,” Jefferson murmurs. “It’s just hard.”

“Believe me, I know.”

That earns another sweet giggle, and another soft press of Jefferson’s lips against his own. His arms tighten instinctively, craving Jefferson’s warmth against him. 

“Can we be done with packing up for today?” Jefferson asks softly. “I wanna get some cuddling done before you pass out on me.”

Brock can’t resist a laugh, grinning when Jefferson’s joins in, blue eyes lighting up. He sighs softly, stealing one more kiss. “Sounds perfect.”


	13. Chapter 13

“We should get a couch for the new place.”

Brock raises an eyebrow when Jefferson says it, glancing up from the task folding his heavy winter clothes into boxes, and over to where the omega’s sprawled across his bed, flipping through his favorite book with just Brock’s black jacket on. Once again, they’ve reach the point of Jefferson being almost as partial to the thing as Brock is, reaching for it every time he needs something easy to throw on in Brock’s apartment.

“We have my couch,” he offers. “What do we need to get another one for?”

Jefferson’s eyes flick up before his head lifts, his lips pursing. “Well, yeah…” he shrugs. “But…”

“But?” Brock prompts, a smile curling on his face when Jefferson just shrugs again. “What? Are you trying to tell me you don’t like my couch?”

“It’s not that I don’t like it,” Jefferson sighs, trying and failing to disguise a grin by biting his lip cutely. “It’s just—I don’t know. A little tired-looking?”

Brock snorts. Jefferson’s not exactly wrong, that couch was old long before it ever found it’s way into his possession. A new seam pops in the cracked, faded leather at least once a week. “And I guess that pretty, new apartment deserves a pretty, new couch, huh?”

“I thought so,” Jefferson smiles. Brock nods, sighing heavily as he shoves a few more things into the box before him.

“So you’re gonna drag me out to some big department store, huh?”

“Believe me, I’m no more excited about that than you are,” Jefferson giggles. “But we need curtains for all those windows, too.”

“And a couple new sheet sets probably wouldn’t hurt either,” Brock sighs. He climbs onto the bed, grinning when Jefferson rolls onto his back to look up at him, curls spreading out around his face. “It’s been years since I got new sheets.”

“God, don’t tell me that while I’m laying on them,” Jefferson groans, rolling his eyes but accepting a little kiss. “That’s gross and you know it.”

“It’s not like I haven’t _washed_ them,” Brock says, with just a hint of playful mocking.

“Even so…” Jefferson sighs. His arms slip around Brock’s neck, pulling him in for another kiss. “I guess that’s one more thing on the list.”

“I guess so.” Brock can’t help but smile, chuckling softly as he looks down at Jefferson. The omega’s still got a lazy glow about him from having made love just a short while earlier, his cheeks a soft pink, his neck and chest covered with fresh and fading lovebites, mirroring the ones Brock knows he’s got on his own skin. It’s getting harder and harder not to put marks on each other, but at least the thought of leaving one that will last has begun to induce something like a flutter in Brock’s stomach, not a chill…

Jefferson giggles, his fingers trailing along Brock’s bare shoulder, winding smoothly through the patterns of his scars. “What are you staring for?”

“Not a thing…beautiful,” Brock grins, chuckling when Jefferson rolls his eyes, his flush deepening. He really is so beautiful. Like watercolor, all smooth lines and delicate pastels… “I was just thinking about the fact that I don’t have a single picture of you anywhere.” When Jefferson’s lips part for nothing more than a breath, eyes blinking wide, Brock presses his luck. “Would you let me take one of you now?”

“Just like this?” Jefferson asks, raising an eyebrow. “I probably look a mess…”

Brock shakes his head, leaning down until his lips are just barely brushing against Jefferson’s. “I happen to think you look gorgeous,” he purrs. “And just right for the kind of picture that no one but us ever has to see.”

Jefferson lets out a breathless laugh that ghosts against Brock’s lips, too teasing to not tempt a kiss. “Ok,” Jefferson nods when they part, a happy little grin spreading on his face. “What can a picture or two hurt?”

“That’s more like it,” Brock chuckles. He grabs his phone from the bedside table, pushing himself up to kneel over Jefferson. The omega smiles sweetly at him, but his giggle is a little nervous.

“Are you gonna pose me or something?”

“Do I need to?” Brock grins. Jefferson just shrugs.

“I don’t really know what to do…” he murmurs, hands fidgeting with the zipper of the jacket.

Brock sighs softly, setting down his phone once again and covering Jefferson’s hands with his own. “Don’t overthink it,” he smiles, guiding those hands up and laying them against the bed, framing Jefferson’s face. “It’s just me, you can relax.”

Jefferson laughs, just a touch self-deprecating before he nods and draws in a deep breath, settling himself against the mattress. His curls shift as he does, fanning out more, and Brock guides a few back to caress the edges of Jefferson’s cheeks.

“I love your hair long like this,” he murmurs. 

“I do too,” Jefferson smiles. “I used to always cut it because I didn’t want to draw too much attention, but I don’t know…I guess that just hasn’t been bothering me so much lately.”

“Good,” Brock nods, grinning when Jefferson laughs softly. “You deserve attention.”

Jefferson rolls his eyes, but doesn’t say a word as Brock’s hand drifts along his neck, tugging the zipper of the jacket down and nudging the fabric out of the way to expose a few more inches of creamy flesh. The omega visibly shivers when Brock’s fingers just barely brush back up the center of his chest.

“You really do like gentle touches best, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” Jefferson answers without hesitation, eyelids fluttering shut when Brock’s fingertips dip into the hollow of his throat. “I mean, sometimes I want it harder, but when you’re soft it’s just an entirely different feeling…”

Brock nods, and now it’s his turn to feel a little breathless when the back of his hand brushes across the omega’s cheek and more pink blooms on the fair skin. When he lets his fingertips play along the line of Jefferson’s throat, hovering over the soft skin just under his ear, Jefferson’s eyes squeeze shut and he lets out a little gasp that goes right through to the core of Brock’s body.

“Fuck, baby…” he breathes, and Jefferson gives a little smile, the blue-grey of his eyes only just visible through his thick lashes when he peeks them open again.

“No need to stop,” the omega purrs, drawing Brock’s attention—soon followed by his fingers—to that plush, pink mouth, which opens for a little sigh as soon as it’s caressed. 

“As if I could,” Brock smirks. His hand’s moving down Jefferson’s chest again now, moving with the rise of his breath towards his nipple, circling the dusky rose peak painfully slowly. Jefferson whimpers when Brock lets his finger give a delicate flick against the hardening bud, a tremor rolling through the omega’s body.And when he does it again, and again, never more than the softest touch, it takes only seconds before Jefferson’s fisting the blankets, his voice breaking as he whines sweetly.

“I should be doing this with a feather,” Brock murmurs, and Jefferson chokes out a little giggle before gasping and tossing his head to the side as Brock ever-so-carefully squeezes the other nipple between his fingers.

“Fuck…” he whines, breathy noises catching in his throat as Brock’s touch trails further down his chest. His eyes squeeze shut and his teeth worry his lip when Brock’s fingertips kiss soft circles over the spot above his navel. “Brock…” 

“Yeah, beautiful?” Brock purrs, only to have his voice die in his throat when he sees the watery droplets clinging to Jefferson’s eyelashes as the omega pants, open-mouthed. “You ok?”

“God, yes,” Jefferson breathes, a trembling breath rushing out of him when Brock’s hand relents in favor of reaching for his phone. “Please…”

“Please, what, baby?” Brock whispers. Jefferson smiles weakly, reaching out to grasp Brock’s free hand.

“You’re too far away.”

Brock can’t help but laugh, leaning down to brush a kiss against Jefferson’s lips. A kiss that turns hungry at Jefferson’s urging the second their skin touches. 

“Can I…?” Brock asks softly once he pulls back, flashing his phone in Jefferson’s field of view. Jefferson giggles, a silvery sound, nodding his head.

“Now you’ve really got me looking a mess,” he sighs, releasing Brock’s hand to let his arms drape across the bed, fingers tangling in his hair.

“It’s my favorite look on you,” Brock grins. 

“Was that your plan all along?”

“Baby, nothing ever goes according to plan once I’m around you,” he laughs. “And I love you for it.” Jefferson just laughs, his flushed cheeks dimpling prettily as he watches Brock fiddle with the camera.

“ _Fai un sorriso per la foto, bello,_ ” Brock purrs, catching Jefferson at the exact moment his eyes dilate and his lips part for a little gasp. He snaps two pictures in quick succession, easily deciding that the first one was the best. Jefferson photographs beautifully, of course, the light catching the angles and curves of his face and making his eyes shimmer.

“What did you say?” Jefferson asks.

“I told you to smile for your picture,” Brock grins, eliciting a giggle.

“I don’t think that’s what I did…” Jefferson sighs.

“It’s not,” Brock replies. “But that’s not really what I wanted.”

“Oh?”

Brock shakes his head, easing himself down to press into Jefferson’s side, handing him the phone. “I wanted that face you always make when I speak Italian to you.”

Jefferson looks like he’s about to roll his eyes until his gaze fixes on the picture. Instantly, there’s twice as much color in his cheeks as he lets out what might be an attempt at a laugh.

“It doesn’t even look like me…” he whispers.

“Course it does,” Brock smiles. “It’s just not how you’re used to seeing yourself.”

Jefferson smiles as well, just barely, more a brightening in his eyes than a curve of his lips. “So this is what I look like to you?” he muses. Brock nods, his lips finding Jefferson’s shoulder.

“Always.”

Jefferson turns his head to face Brock, nudging closer until their foreheads touch together. “Of course you would take the first photo of myself that I actually like,” he sighs.

“Happy to be of service,” Brock chuckles, tilting his head so their lips can connect in a soft kiss. “You should take more photos of yourself, and send them to me. Distract me while I’m at work, or bored at home.”

“I’ll consider it,” Jefferson nods, setting the phone off to the side. “As long as you promise me no one but you will ever see that picture.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Brock says, very serious, before cocking a little grin. “Though if I’m being honest, part of me wants that picture framed.” Jefferson’s scoff quickly breaks into giggling, and Brock raises his eyebrows in mock insistence. “I mean it, you belong in an art gallery or something.”

“Stop,” Jefferson giggles again, pushing at Brock’s shoulder playfully. “I’m not a painting…”

“You’re pretty enough to be one.”

Jefferson shakes his head, his eyes finding Brock’s for a penetrating look that has the alpha rendered silent. “Paintings aren’t meant to be touched,” he whispers. His hands slips down, finding Brock’s so their fingers intertwine. “But I am.” 

“Fucking hell…” Brock whispers, the words barely making it out before Jefferson leans in again, his lips candy-sweet against Brock’s.

“Now how about you get over here and finish what you started?”

“Yes, sir,” is the only reply Brock’s brain can come up with, but it makes Jefferson laugh, so he really can’t complain.

******

Going furniture shopping is about as thrilling as Brock expected it to be. Fluorescent lights too bright, the space too noisy, and, though he knows the people working there mean well, he can only deal with an excitable voice asking “how can I help you?” so many times before it starts to grate on him. 

Jefferson, bless him, handles the whole affair with more grace than Brock could ever muster, taking it upon himself to chat with the overly helpful staff, flashing sweet smiles so Brock can fume in silence, gripping tight to the omega’s hand.

“You’re a better person than I’ll ever be,” he mumbles once Jefferson’s waved off the fourth girl in twenty minutes.

“No, I just work retail too,” Jefferson shrugs, resting his cheek on Brock’s shoulder. “The worst kept secret in the business is that no one really wants to go up to every person they see and try to start a conversation. It’s a relief to be told you don’t have to be helpful and keep that smile plastered on your face.”

Brock’s chuckle trails off into a sigh soon enough as he glances around, readjusting the sheet set he’s already got tucked under one arm. A pale, neutral gold, so as not to clash with Jefferson vividly multicolor quilt. “Seeing anything you like?”

“Nothing’s leapt out at me yet,” Jefferson shrugs. “How about you?”

“They’re all kinda blurring together at this point…”

“Brock, it’s not even been half an hour.”

“And there’s a reason I’ve had the same piece-of-shit couch for all these years,” he mumbles. He hears an older woman scoff, at his language, he assumes, though when he glances over he finds he really doesn’t like the look she’s giving Jefferson. Brock just frowns, sending her a cutting look as he slips his arm around Jefferson’s shoulders and presses a kiss to the omega’s hair.

“What about that one?”

Jefferson’s voice is a welcome distraction, as is being pulled in the direction of a gunmetal blue couch, notable because it’s pretty much the only piece of furniture in the whole store that isn’t some variation on taupe.

“Nice,” he nods, running his hand over the soft suede as Jefferson drops himself down.

“Nice and soft,” Jefferson adds with a grin. “I like the color too.”

“Of course you do,” Brock smiles. “Matches your eyes.”

Jefferson lights up with a smile at that, pressing back into the cushions. “And it doesn’t try to swallow you whole when you sit down…”

“Always a plus,” Brock chuckles. His old couch is guilty of that, sometimes he’s got to claw his way out of the thing. “Mind if I join you?”

Jefferson blushes softly when he says it, but readily shifts, patting the spot next to him. “Be my guest.”

Brock slips his arm around Jefferson’s shoulder once again as he sits, and Jefferson immediately curls up to him. “Seems like a pretty good fit,” he nods.

“Deep enough for me to curl up and long enough for you to stretch out,” Jefferson agrees. “I could probably make some pillows for it too…”

“You’ll make pillows but not curtains?” Brock teases. Jefferson rolls his eyes.

“Curtains are boring as hell to make,” he replies, making Brock laugh. “Plus we can get them cheap, and buying all that fabric definitely wouldn’t be. Pillows are overpriced anyhow, so I might as well make them myself so they can be special.”

“You’re so cute…” Brock only realizes he’s said it when Jefferson looks over at him with one raised eyebrow. “I mean, you’re right,” he adds quickly, bringing a smile back to Jefferson’s face. “But you’re also really cute.”

“Thank you,” Jefferson smiles, planting a kiss on Brock’s cheek before leaning over to look at the price tag. “Oh, and it comes with those chairs too…” he murmurs, gesturing to the matching armchairs.

“Well, we do need to fill all that space,” Brock muses, resting his head on Jefferson’s shoulder as he scans the tag. “I think we can make that work.”

Jefferson turns his head, nuzzling against Brock’s cheek. “Then I guess we should go find one of those very helpful sales attendants and tell them we’re ready to buy.”

Brock smiles, stealing a kiss from Jefferson’s lips. “I guess so.”

It’s mercifully simple to go through the process of placing their order and setting up a delivery date, but by the time they’re leaving now with several curtain sets as well, Brock couldn’t be happier.

“I need a drink,” he mutters, slinging the large shopping bag over his shoulder as Jefferson presses into his side, giggling softly.

“Well then, how about we drop everything at my place, and you give me a couple minutes to get ready before we go out?”

“And here I was thinking you were already ready,” Brock grins.

“Ready for furniture shopping, maybe, but not for a nightclub,” Jefferson laughs, leaning in to nuzzle Brock’s neck. 

“And I know you like to get dolled up,” Brock chuckles. “Sounds like a plan to me.”

Maybe it’s lame to go to the same bar where he works for a date night, but it’s comforting to some extent, being in a place that’s familiar. He’s always expected Jefferson to complain, but evidently the omega doesn’t mind. He even seems to enjoy the fact that everyone there has started to recognize him as Brock’s boyfriend.

“What is that you’re always drinking?” Jefferson asks once they’re seated at the bar. 

“Scotch,” Brock replies, taking another sip before flashing a grin at Jefferson. 

“What’s it taste like?” 

Brock raises an eyebrow, smiling softly when Jefferson blushes. “It’s an acquired taste more than anything,” he shrugs. “It’s almost like water at first, then it gets kind of sweet, and there’s one hell of a kick as it goes down.” He sets his glass down, chuckling when Jefferson leans in and lets their noses brush together. “Why the sudden interest?”

“Well it always smells so good on you,” Jefferson murmurs. “I guess I’m just curious.”

“Is that so?” Brock purrs. Jefferson bites his lip, nodding slowly until Brock closes the distance between them for a kiss that’s gentle and sweet as Brock’s tongue glides with Jefferson’s, and punctuated by a playful nip when Brock pulls back. “You like the taste on me too?”

“I think I do,” Jefferson giggles, his hand resting on Brock’s arm. “Do you think I could have an actual taste?”

“If you like,” Brock nods. “But I thought alcohol wasn’t really your thing?”

Jefferson shrugs one shoulder, a vague smile creeping onto his face. “Well, I always avoided it because it just seemed like another way to risk losing control, and that wasn’t something I was interested in,” he murmurs. “But maybe that’s just one more thing I’m not so worried about anymore.”

“Well if you want to, I’m not gonna tell you no,” Brock smiles, sliding his glass towards Jefferson. “I’d just advise you to start with a small sip, that’s not exactly a beginner’s drink.”

Jefferson nods as he picks up the glass, sniffing at the contents before taking a little sip. Almost immediately, not to mention comically, his face screws up, and Brock finds himself chuckling as he rescues the glass from Jefferson weakening grip.

“I warned you,” he murmurs, rubbing the omega’s back as he coughs weakly.

“H-How do you drink that?” Jefferson splutters, his hands fluttering back and forth between covering his coughs and fanning what Brock can easily imagine is the burning on his tongue. “God, it’s like acid…”

“Like I said, an acquired taste,” he shrugs. “If you want to try drinking, we should probably start you off on something gentler.”

Jefferson nods, smiling around a long exhale, breathing out the burn. “Like what?”

“How about we ask our friendly neighborhood bartender?” Brock grins, kissing Jefferson’s cheek before catching Natasha’s eye and waving her over.

“What can I do for you two?” she smiles, sauntering over towards them.

“Jefferson wanted to know if you could recommend a drink for him,” Brock smiles, nudging Jefferson’s shoulder when the omega giggles softly. “He’s feeling a little adventurous tonight.”

A slow, warm smile spreads across Natasha’s face as her gaze slides over to Jefferson, who’s quick to smile back. “Well, if you want something low on alcohol, I’d probably recommend a wine spritzer, but, depending on how brave you’re feeling…a lemon or apple martini is very sweet.”

“Pack’s a punch though,” Brock adds. “You’d have to take your time with one of those.” 

Jefferson nods, his lips pursing cutely for a moment before smiling back at Natasha. “Can I get the apple one?”

“Coming right up,” Natasha smirks. When she moves away, Brock leans in to nudge his nose against Jefferson’s cheek, placing a kiss there when he feels the omega smile.

“If this goes to my head too fast, you’ll take care of me, right?” Jefferson simpers.

“Of course, baby,” Brock replies. “But you don’t have to prove anything by getting drunk.”

“I know,” Jefferson nods. “I just wanna try the drink. And if I get a little tipsy, at least I’m with someone safe.”

“Ok,” Brock smiles. Natasha returns with Jefferson’s drink soon enough, and Jefferson flashes a grin immediately.

“I like the color,” he giggles, picking up the delicate glass and swirling its bright green contents. He glances at Brock before tasting a little sip, his face lighting up immediately.

“Like it?” Natasha asks.

“Yeah,” Jefferson nods, clearing his throat. “Kinda strong, but I like it.”

“Good,” she smiles. “That one’s on me, don’t hurt yourself.”

Jefferson murmurs a thank you, leaning his head against Brock’s shoulder once Natasha walks away. Brock raises his glass, clinking it against Jefferson’s when the omega raises his own in toast, sharing a drink together.

“Feeling anything yet?”

“If I am, I’m pretty sure it’d be all in my head,” Jefferson laughs. “How about you ask me in an hour?”

Brock nods, kissing Jefferson’s forehead lightly. “I think I can manage that.”

It ends up only taking half an hour before Jefferson’s finished his drink, and he’s definitely feeling it. His cheeks have a little extra rosiness and his eyes are bright, and though he’s not slurring, he’s giggling in the middle almost every sentence he tries to speak, leaning heavily against Brock.

“Looks like you’re enjoying yourself,” Brock teases when Jefferson nuzzles into his neck, sighing sweetly.

“Mm-hmm…” he giggles, his sugary breath ghosting against Brock’s lips when he sits up. He plucks the maraschino cherry from his empty glass, sucking it between his lips and grinning as Brock watches him lick the extra wetness from his fingers, mesmerized. “We should go dance.”

“You think so?” Brock grins. “I thought you didn’t know how to dance.”

“And I thought you said we danced together when you first met me,” Jefferson smirks, his fingers gliding down Brock’s front, gripping teasingly at his shirt. “I wanna see what that was like.”

Before Brock can say anything, Jefferson’s up, grabbing his hands and tugging him towards the dancefloor. “Please!” he giggles, dragging out the word until Brock can’t help but give in, following Jefferson until they’re engulfed by flashing lights and pounding music and other bodies moving to the beat.

Jefferson’s arms slip around his neck, pulling him in for a kiss as the omega arches against him, humming sweetly.

“M’not really sure how to do this,” he murmurs, hiding his face in Brock’s shoulder.

“Well, that first night, you had your back against me,” Brock replies, spinning Jefferson around and pressing a kiss under the omega’s ear. Jefferson gasps softly, but it doesn’t take long before he’s swaying his body, giggling softly when Brock’s hands press him closer. His head lolls back, and he moans when Brock’s kisses continue along his neck. The omega’s skin is starting to taste sweet under Brock’s tongue, and it’s a thrill to think others might notice the effect they have on each other. He growls at the thought and Jefferson mewls against his ear, his hand sliding back to grip Brock’s thigh.

Time slips away from them, lost in each other and the sounds around them. Jefferson turns around eventually, their lips finding each other as Brock’s hands move along Jefferson’s body, cupping and caressing every curve until the omega’s purring, hands tangled in Brock’s hair.

“I’ve got something for you,” Jefferson whispers, guiding Brock’s hand to his hip. The alpha’s breath catches when he feels lace against Jefferson’s skin, looking down to see a band of red fabric exposed by the omega’s rucked up shirt.“Take me home?” 

They’re out of there before Brock can even catch his breath.

******

Despite all the preparing they’ve been doing for weeks, the last few days before they get to move in are almost too much to handle. Having to pack up the last of their stuff is one thing, of course, but not being able to get to anything because everything’s in boxes is on a whole other level. Brock eats off the same plate three days in a row, and Jefferson calls him twice in a near panic because he can’t find a book he wants to read and doesn’t know whether he packed it, or lost it somewhere.

All in all, Brock’s more than ready to already be moved in.

The day comes soon enough. Brock gets up early to go pick up the moving van they rented, driving it to Jefferson’s building first. The omega greets him at the door, a jittery mess.

“I already want today to be over,” he groans, nearly falling into Brock’s arms as the alpha laughs.

“I know the feeling,” he smiles, rubbing Jefferson’s back gently. “But you’ve got everything, right?”

“I hope so,” Jefferson mutters. “I couldn’t sleep last night. I just kept getting up to check on one more thing, then one _more_ thing…”

“You should’ve called me,” Brock sighs. “I was doing the same thing. Though, on the plus side, all my furniture is broken-down and ready for transport, including my bed.”

Jefferson laughs weakly, hiding his face in Brock’s shoulder. “At least we’ll both be sleeping well tonight on that bed.”

“Well at least there’s that.” Brock presses a kiss to Jefferson’s hair, hugging him tight. “Natasha and Maria should be here soon. Jack, too, if he drags his lazy ass out of bed.”

“I have faith in him,” Jefferson giggles. The words are barely out of his mouth before there’s a knock on the door, Natasha’s voice coming through from the other side.

“Open up, we’re here to tear your place apart,” she calls, voice laced with humor. Brock rolls his eyes as Jefferson laughs, opening the door.

“Thank you for coming,” Jefferson smiles.

“It’s no trouble, we’re happy to help,” Natasha replies, glancing back at Maria, who nods. Brock nods his thanks in return. He can’t help thinking that this is a very different Maria from the one he’s used to seeing. No makeup, hair in a ponytail, her typical suit and heels replaced with comfortable sweats and tennis shoes…and what he’s pretty sure is Natasha’s t-shirt. Jefferson ushers the two women inside, and Brock chuckles as he watches the omega wrap his arms first around Natasha, then Maria, both of whom accept the hugs with warm smiles. 

Jefferson lingers on Maria, however, and Brock frowns in confusion when he sees color rising in the omega’s cheeks.

“I feel kinda silly now,” he murmurs when he leans back. “All this time I thought you were a beta…”

Brock’s about to ask to be let in on the secret, when quite suddenly he catches the alpha scent coming from Maria, dark like evergreen and rain. He raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t stop himself from smiling slightly, even as Maria looks a little sheepish.

“I knew it.”

“Did you?” Maria asks, smiling. Brock shrugs.

“You just gave off that vibe,” he smiles. “But I assumed I was just reading you wrong, because of the scent.”

“Well that was the idea,” she shrugs, looking back at Jefferson and squeezing his shoulders affectionately. “For my line of work, it’s just easier if people think I’m something more typical.”

“It took some convincing, but I finally got her to believe she didn’t have anything to be nervous about around you all,” Natasha adds.

“Well you don’t,” Jefferson smiles. “We’re all a little weird here.”

Maria laughs, shaking her head as she smiles at Jefferson. “And you’re too sweet for your own good,” she sighs. “Now come on, let’s get this apartment of yours packed up.”

“Ok,” Jefferson giggles. “I’m scared you’re all going to hate me after this because of those stairs…”

“We promise not to hold it against you,” Natasha grins, waltzing into the center of the room. “So, where do we start?”

Furniture, at Brock’s direction, is where they start, lugging Jefferson’s various bookshelves down the stairs and packing them neatly into the van. Brock knows he’s being mollified as everyone involved patiently obeys him as he says what should fit where, but it keeps his anxiety down, so he’ll swallow his pride about it. 

“Didn’t Jack say he was coming?” Natasha asks once they’ve got the fourth and final shelf in place. Brock rolls his eyes

“He did, but knowing Jack, we probably won’t be seeing him until noon.”

“I resent that!”

Brock looks back over his shoulder at the sound of Jack’s voice, grinning as he hops down from the van.

“Well look who finally made it.”

“Yeah, yeah, shuddup,” Jack mutters, downing the rest of what’s probably coffee before tossing the cup into the nearby trashcan. “Where do you want me?”

“Upstairs, lifting heavy things,” Natasha calls.

“Naturally,” Jack replies. “What else am I good for.”

Brock snorts, clapping Jack on the shoulder as they head back up the stairs. 

“Oh, and since you missed the big reveal,” Brock says, making Jack glance over. “Maria’s actually an alpha.”

“What else would she be?”

Brock stops, dead in his tracks, and Jack makes it up another step before stopping as well.

“You knew?”

“You didn’t?” Jack laughs. “Come on, did that scentcover she’s always wearing actually fool you?”

“Well that’s the general idea behind them,” Brock shrugs, shaking his head. “Should’ve figured you’d already know with that overpowered nose you’ve got.”

“You’re just jealous,” Jack smirks, just barely dodging the kick Brock aims at his leg.

“Boys, please.” They both look up to see Jefferson grinning from the top of the stairs, waving them both the rest of the way. “Look who finally showed,” he teases, offering Jack a hug that the alpha only somewhat begrudgingly accepts.

“What is that, the company line or something?” he mutters, patting Jefferson’s back. “I’m told you have heavy things for me to lift?”

“Plenty of them,” Jefferson laughs. “Honestly I’ve never been more grateful to have a tiny apartment, shouldn’t take too long to get everything down.”

If an hour can be considered not too long, Jefferson turns out to be right. Brock’s place is more of a chore since it’s about twice the size of Jefferson’s, but not one of them complains since his building at least has an elevator. Something they’re equally grateful for in the new building.

“Nice place,” Natasha grins, glancing around as she sets the box she’s carrying on the counter. 

“We thought so too,” Brock replies. “They should be delivering the new furniture around noon, but until then we just get to move stuff up.”

“Oh, so exciting,” Natasha teases. Brock shoots her a mock glare that she just smirks through.

Much to Brock’s surprise, Jefferson actually takes over directing when the delivery guys show up. Brock happily lets him takes over, just nodding in agreement when Jefferson glances over to him to make sure he likes the semicircle arrangement. Jefferson’s old bedside table gets a new place next to the couch with Brock’s coffee table getting a seat in the center of the semicircle. 

Their mutual appreciation for dark woods was a blessing, honestly. Everything more or less matches.

The bookshelves get split evenly between the master bedroom and the spare they haven’t yet decided what to do with, while all the workout gear gets funneled into the L-shaped room. And Jack’s height certainly comes in handy when they have to hang all those curtains up. 

By the time it’s reached mid afternoon, they’ve called it a day, all collapsed in the main room, eating snacks and sipping on drinks Natasha picked up on a grocery run.

“You really didn’t have to go out and buy us food,” Brock says, despite taking a long drink immediately after.

“Don’t worry about it,” she smiles, settling herself on the floor between Maria’s legs. “Are you sure you’re gonna be ok with all those boxes we still haven’t unpacked?”

“We’ll manage,” Jefferson nods from where he’s tucked into Brock’s side on the couch. 

“Don’t want anyone finding all your whips and chains, huh?” Jack smirks. Jefferson scoffs, aiming a pillow at Jack’s head that he doesn’t even bother to dodge. “What? I’m just saying. I wouldn’t want anyone finding my whips and chains.”

“Oh my god,” Jefferson groans, squealing when Jack tosses the pillow back at him.

“Ignore him, he’s always been gross,” Brock smirks. Jack pretends to look scandalized.

“Well I’m trying,” Jefferson sighs dramatically, giggling as he pulls the pillow close, running his fingers over the stitching.

“Did you make that one?”

Jefferson glances up at Maria, smiling softly. “Yeah,” he nods. “I made all the one’s in here.”

“They’re beautiful,” she replies, running her hand over the one she’s got tucked under her arm. “You make other stuff too, right?”

“I guess,” Jefferson shrugs. “I embroider and knit, a lot.”

“Ever think about selling your stuff?”

Brock can’t help but chuckle a little as Jefferson flushes brightly, shaking his head. “You’re really good, you should think about it.”

“I don’t know about that,” Jefferson mumbles. “I don’t think I’m that good.”

“Nobody thinks they’re _that_ good,” Maria smiles. “But you should think about it.” 

“I will,” Jefferson agrees, resting his head on Brock’s shoulder, glancing at Natasha with a grin. “You’re girlfriend’s tenacious.” 

“She is,” Natasha laughs, looking up at Maria affectionately. They share a look, Natasha’s smile growing into a smirk. “So tenacious she convinced me to be her mate.”

It’s silent for a moment as the news settles, but soon enough, Jefferson’s happy giggle bubbling out of him breaks the quiet.

“Really?” he gasps. When Natasha nods, Jefferson’s hand flies up over his mouth to stifle another giggle. “Oh that’s wonderful!”

“You guys are just full of surprises today aren’t you?” Jack smirks. “Congrats.”

“Congrats,” Brock agrees. “When did you guys…?”

“About a week ago,” Maria answers, her fingers playing with the ends of Natasha’s hair. “We’d been seeing a counselor for a while, though, just to make sure everything would go smoothly.”

“She was worried we might hit a few snags since I’m a beta,” Natasha adds.

“But everything went ok?” Jefferson asks.

“Well, I can only speak from our one experience,” Natasha shrugs. “But everything seemed fine to me.” Maria’s quick to nod in agreement.

“That’s so incredible,” Jefferson sighs, dreamy. Brock can’t help but hug him a little tighter on instinct, something fluttering in his stomach.

He’s been thinking about it for so long. They both have…

Maybe it’s finally time.

A couple more hours slip by as they chat, but as soon as Jefferson starts yawning, their three guests seem to take the cue to leave. Maria, bless her, offers to take the rental back for them, and Jack insists that Brock shouldn’t be driving anyhow. Of course he knows Brock hadn’t slept the night before.

He and Jefferson end up falling asleep on the couch once everyone’s left, too exhausted to even bother changing. Not that Brock didn’t try to suggest it, but Jefferson’s sleepy snuffles, half-lost where the omega’s lips were pressed into his chest, turned out to be very persuasive. He acquiesces by wrapping his arms tighter around the omega’s body and burying his face in soft curls, out like a light soon enough.

He’s awoken several hours later by Jefferson shifting on top of him, and he blinks his eyes open into almost complete darkness.

“What time is it?” he mutters.

“No idea,” Jefferson says, in a tone that sounds an awful lot like a yawn. “Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you.”

“S’ok,” Brock replies. Jefferson shifts again, pushing himself up.

“Prepare yourself, I’m gonna turn on the lamp.”

The warning doesn’t do much good, Brock still groans weakly when light suddenly floods the room. Jefferson winces too, his face screwing up as he leans further over Brock, who cranes his neck to see Jefferson grasping for his phone.

“It’s just shy of one in the morning,” he sighs. Brock nods, resting his hands on Jefferson’s thighs as he listens to the sound of the omega setting his phone down and watches him sit up, straddling Brock now. He hadn’t bothered with taking his hair down before they fell asleep, so Brock gets to watch, entranced, as curls cascade down from where they’d been pinned up, framing Jefferson’s face and falling softly across his shoulders.

“Better?” he smiles once the omega’s shaking out his mane of hair.

“Much,” Jefferson sighs, leaning over to set the bundle of pins down on the adjacent table as well, running his hands through his curls as he smiles at Brock. “Those things give me a headache after a while.

“And we can’t have that,” Brock grins. Jefferson laughs softly, sliding back down so they’re chest to chest.

“No, we really can’t.” Jefferson just barely gets the full sentence out before their lips come together, kissing slow and easy as Brock’s hands grip the omega’s shirt, pressing him closer.

Jefferson purrs softly, his lips moving along Brock’s jaw as the alpha’s hands slip under his shirt his fingertips brushing over the dimples at the base of Jefferson’s spine.

“Seems like you want me to take this off,” Jefferson murmurs.

Brock chuckles softly, his fingers teasing Jefferson’s sides. “Well I wouldn’t complain if you did.”

Jefferson giggles, sitting up and pulling off his shirt in one fluid motion. When Brock’s hands move over his chest, he rolls his neck and lets his eyes close, sighing luxuriously. Putting on a show… Brock smirks at the thought

He leans down again, his tongue slipping into Brock’s mouth this time when they kiss. Brock gives as good as he’s getting, his fingertips brushing up and down the omega’s spine until he feels goosebumps breaking out. Jefferson pulls away with a little grin soon enough, pushing up Brock’s shirt slowly and slipping down to press more kisses along Brock’s stomach. Brock groans, running his hands through Jefferson hair as he props himself up against the arm of the couch, just in time to see Jefferson look up at him, popping the button on Brock’s jeans with a smirk. 

“You should take your shirt off too,” he murmurs. Brock can’t say no to that voice, pulling off his shirt immediately and tossing it onto the floor next to Jefferson’s. The omega hums approvingly, dragging his fingernails over Brock’s abs before tugging his zipper down with his teeth.

“Jesus christ,” Brock breathes, making Jefferson giggle as he pulls down Brock’s pants and underwear, just enough to pull out his already half-hard cock. Wide, blue eyes look up at him again, just before soft pink lips start to kiss up his shaft, making him moan.

“You like that?” Jefferson teases, his lips still brushing against Brock’s length.

“You know I do, beautiful,” Brock replies, biting down on his tongue and letting his head roll to the side when Jefferson’s lips wrap around him, sucking gently as his head moves up and down. 

Jefferson’s not nearly so timid as he was the first time, and with the added practice, it’s not long before Brock’s knees are feeling weak, shudders rolling up his back every time Jefferson hums softly or presses the tip of his tongue along the underside of his shaft. When Jefferson’s tongue starts tease the tip of his cock every time he comes up, Brock’s finds his hands tightening reflexively in the omega’s hair.

When Jefferson pulls back for a breath, Brock sits up further, guiding Jefferson’s head up for a kiss and unbuttoning the omega’s pants as well. Jefferson moans sweetly when Brock’s hand wraps around his length, his scent blooming onto Brock’s tongue, strong enough to make him growl. 

“I want you,” Jefferson purrs. Brock nods immediately, only to bite his own lip when he pulls back, shifting his hands to Jefferson’s waist.

“I don’t exactly remember where our condoms are in all these boxes,” he mutters. Much to his surprise, Jefferson just shrugs.

“Well…I’ve been on that new birth control for a couple months now,” he murmurs, blushing softly. “And I’m not in heat, so I think it’ll be ok.”

Brock nods slowly, pressing a kiss to Jefferson’s lips again. “Are you sure, beautiful?”

“Yeah,” Jefferson nods. “I asked Dr. Cho and everything the last time I was at her office and she said it would be fine.”

Brock smiles slightly, kissing Jefferson’s forehead. “Ok,” he murmurs. “Wanna move to the bed?”

“We could,” Jefferson murmurs, a smirk spreading on his face. “But we do still need to break in this new couch…”

“Well when you put it that way…” 

Jefferson giggles, leaning in to tease his teeth over Brock’s lips. “And I wanna be on top,” he purrs, nudging at Brock until the alpha’s on his back.

The rest of their clothes are gone soon enough, and when Jefferson presses down onto his length it’s electric, burning heat where they’re connected. They both gasp, Jefferson’s voice breaking off into a pitchy moan as he braces himself on Brock’s chest.

“Oh my god,” he breathes. Brock lets out a weak laugh.

“We’re never going back are we?”

“Not unless we really have to,” Jefferson replies. He grasps Brock’s shoulders, lifting himself up, then easing back down, biting his lip as he moans. 

“You’ll get no complaints from me,” Brock nods. His hands grip Jefferson’s hips, guiding him up and down. Every little shiver from the omega’s body goes right through to him, and the heat is just this side of unbearable. Brock’s already breathing rough, and when Jefferson presses down and circles his hips slowly, he groans deeply.

“Enjoying yourself?” Jefferson teases, tossing his hair over his shoulder.

Brock chuckles, and Jefferson gasps softly when the vibrations pass between their bodies “As much as I hope you are.”

Jefferson blushes beautifully, the color creeping across his glowing skin, his intoxicating scent filling the room as he starts moving again. Brock’s hand slides up the omega’s chest, and Jefferson takes hold of it gently where it rests over his heart, mirroring the placement of Jefferson’s hand over his own chest. 

Brock swears their hearts are beating in time with each other. He’d bet his life on it. And there’s a warmth curling in his chest that tells him Jefferson would do the same.

Jefferson squeezes his hand, his breathy sounds of pleasure all too tantalizing as he starts moving faster. Brock starts thrusting up to meet him and he knows he’s hit his mark when Jefferson suddenly whimpers, eyes going wide.

“Right there, huh?” he purrs, and Jefferson nods eagerly.

“Please…” 

Brock shifts his hold to Jefferson’s hips again, holding him still as he thrusts up, fast and sharp. Jefferson’s mouth hangs open, his eyes screwing shut as he gasps and cries at every thrust. When Brock’s hand wraps around his length, stroking quickly, it’s only a few seconds before Jefferson’s back is bowing and he’s moaning deeply, his body shuddering torturously tight, around Brock’s length.

Jefferson has to brace himself against Brock’s chest again, and Brock runs a hand through the omega’s hair, letting them both breathe. He certainly needs it, his body’s still thrumming, oversensitive to every little quiver from Jefferson. 

“What did you stop for?” Jefferson murmurs, his voice still a little dreamy as he sits up, brushing back his hair. Brock grins, wrapping his arms around Jefferson’s waist as he pushes up, maneuvering the omega onto his back. Jefferson puts up no fight, smiling prettily. 

As soon as Brock starts to thrust inside him again, his eyes flutter shut, back to moaning softly. Brock’s lips cover Jefferson’s, letting those sweet moans be lost on his tongue, mixing with the deeper sounds stirring in his own chest.

Jefferson’s nails dig into the small of his back, making him groan as his thrusts get rougher, pressing deeper and more insistent inside Jefferson, who takes them all too willingly.

“I want you,” the omega whispers, his lips and teeth playing along Brock’s jaw. It’s all Brock needs to come apart, his lips pressed against the crook of Jefferson’s neck, just barely resisting the urge to bite. Fuck, he almost gives in, and his denial puts an ache of wanting in his chest that’s deep enough for two. But he doesn’t dwell on it, too eager to focus on how Jefferson gasps when Brock comes, filling him. Jefferson’s legs clasp the alpha’s waist to pull him closer, and when Brock’s knot ties them together seconds later, they’re both moaning at the swell. Without a barrier between them, the pressure is breath-taking. 

Brock would laugh if he could get the air into his lungs to do it. Jefferson’s always taking his breath away.

“You almost bit me…”

Jefferson’s voice is so soft, Brock half-wonders if he was even meant to hear it, but he lifts his head, finding lavender-blue eyes peering up at him.

“I did,” he admits, brushing his fingers over the spot where his mouth had been pressing. Jefferson leans into his hand, nodding slightly.

“I…” he trails off, shaking his head. Brock kisses his forehead.

“What, baby?”

Jefferson’s gaze is searching now, his eyes flicking back and forth between Brock’s own. “It’s just…It’s like I could feel how much you wanted to,” he whispers, smiling weakly. “Or maybe that’s just because of how much I wanted you to.”

“I did want to,” Brock says quickly, and his heart breaks a little at how Jefferson’s eyes widen in surprise. He glances down. “I still want to, honestly…”

“You mean it?”

Brock nods, stroking Jefferson’s cheek now. “Yeah,” he smiles. He swallows heavily, nervousness stirring in him, and, as if Jefferson can feel it too, his hands start to stroke up and down Brock’s back soothingly. “Do you still want to bond with me?”

“Of course I do,” Jefferson replies. Brock breathes a sigh of relief that has them both laughing a little. “I think we might be finally ready for it too.”

“Me too,” Brock smiles. “A-and I don’t mean right now, of course. We can get settled here, maybe see that same counselor that Nat and Maria saw, so we can make sure to do this right…”

Jefferson’s hand carding through his hair quiets him, and he smiles when he sees the omega nodding. He closes his eyes when Jefferson leans up to kiss his forehead. “Were you really that nervous to ask me?”

“A little,” Brock shrugs. He sighs, wrapping his arms around Jefferson and resting their foreheads together, watching Jefferson’s eyes slip closed at the touch. “I mean, the last time we talked about it, I managed to royally fuck things up, so…”

Jefferson sighs softly when he trails off, pretty eyes opening again to look up at him. “I didn’t exactly handle it gracefully either,” he murmurs. “I shouldn’t have hit you.”

“It’s not like I don’t understand why you did,” Brock replies. “I hurt you…”

“That’s not an excuse.” Jefferson shakes his head, a pained look glinting in his eyes as he cups Brock’s face gently. “I don’t have any right to lay a hand on you like that.”

“If you want me to say that I forgive you, I will,” Brock smiles softly. “I forgave you as soon as it happened and I never thought twice about it.”

“Thank you.” The back of Jefferson’s hand pets Brock’s cheek and when Brock tips his head to kiss that same hand, a smile curls its way into the omega’s cheeks. “Can I tell you something?”

“Of course.”

Jefferson’s smile broadens, dimples peeking out from his blushing cheeks. Brock finds himself grinning as well. This is going to be good.

“These past few months,” Jefferson starts, his fingers tracing circles over Brock’s shoulders now. “I haven’t been so worried about bonding with you, because I felt like we were already bonded, in a way…” Brock nods slowly, though he finds himself at a loss for words. Jefferson doesn’t seem to have the same problem. “Maybe it’s all in my head, but sometimes, when we’re intimate like this, it’s like I can feel what you’re feeling. And if we’re sharing the same bed, sometimes I know when you’re having a nightmare, even if you aren’t making noise.”

“Is that how you always know when to wake me up?” Brock murmurs. Jefferson nods, blushing again.

“I didn’t want to weird you out, so I didn’t mention it, but yeah…”

“I’m sorry that’s what you’ve had to see of the inside of my head.”

“You can’t help it,” Jefferson sighs, shaking his head. “I don’t see anything graphic, if that makes you feel better. Just bright colors, flashes, and I get a knot in my stomach like I’m afraid. It always wakes me up, and I know it’s coming from you.”

Brock winces a little at the description, only because it’s all too familiar. “Well now I’m gonna feel guilty, because I’m getting the sweet end of the deal.”

“Oh?”

Brock smiles, memories coming back of all the times he’s woken up from a nightmare to find Jefferson’s forehead pressed against his own as soothing words were breathed against his lips. “You always wake me up the same way, but I never really hear you or feel you. It’s like…” He pauses to chuckle weakly. “You’re going to think this is weird.”

“No, I won’t.” All it takes is one look into Jefferson’s eyes, and he knows it’s true. After that, the words tumble out.

“It’s like you just take away everything bad. All of a sudden everything’s pastel and I feel like I’m floating. And it…it feels like you. Like the sound of your voice or the way you smile.” He smiles softly at how Jefferson’s eyes have widened. “It feels like you’re just coming into my dreams and telling me it’s going to be ok. And then I wake up, and I get to actually see you.”

Jefferson giggles softly, his eyes shining, seemingly as wonderstruck as Brock had been the first time it happened. “Well I’m glad I can help,” he murmurs after a moment, the delicate smile on his lips inviting a kiss that they can’t help but lose themselves in.

“I guess you’re right after all,” Brock says, his lips still brushing against Jefferson’s.

“I am?” Jefferson teases. “Do tell.”

“Maybe we already share a bond, and going through the ritual of it is just a formality for us,” he replies. “Maybe we’re just lucky.”

“Maybe so,” Jefferson sighs. “But it’s still a formality I’m happy to share with you.”

“Me too.” Brock sighs contentedly, admiring Jefferson. His soon-to-be mate… The thought sends a shiver through him. As if he knows—maybe he does—Jefferson breaks into a brilliant smile.

“Though, for now…” he murmurs, snapping Brock out of his daze. “What I’d really like to share with you is a shower.”

“You’ll get no argument there,” Brock laughs, stealing one more kiss before slowly pulling back. Jefferson sucks in a little breath as he does, his body clenching.

“Well that’s different,” he breathes, laughing softly.

“What is?” Brock says it without thinking, but his mouth immediately goes dry when he sees Jefferson’s hand slipping down between his legs, covering his entrance. “Oh…”

Jefferson looks up at him, grinning. “Yeah, that,” he giggles.

“Does it feel weird?”

“A little,” Jefferson shrugs, and Brock’s pretty sure he blushes right along with Jefferson when the omega rubs lightly at his entrance. “I think I kind of like it, though.”

Brock doesn’t even get a chance to reply because Jefferson’s fingers suddenly disappear inside of him, and the omega’s lips fall open in a little gasp. Those fingers work slowly in him, and when he finally pulls them out, they’re a mess with his own slick and Brock’s cum.

“Fuck…” Brock can’t think of anything else to say, but Jefferson’s eyes turn to his and he smiles all too sweetly.

“You like watching me?”

“Of course I do.” Jefferson giggles softly, biting his lip as he rubs his glistening fingers together. Brock can’t resist. He takes hold of Jefferson’s wrist, holding the omega’s gaze as he takes those fingers in his mouth, slowly sucking away his bitter cum and Jefferson’s sweet slick.

Jefferson’s eyes are huge, blown dark as he watches him, and by the time Brock pulls back he’s evidently speechless. Brock smirks.

“How about I get you all cleaned up, beautiful?”

Jefferson’s nodding before he even gets the question fully out.

Their shiny new bathroom gets one hell of a show that night.

******

The next morning is the slow and easy one they’ve more-than-earned. It’s not until nearly eleven that Brock rolls over and wraps his arms around Jefferson, nuzzling him with little kisses until he finally hears a sleepy moan.

“Welcome home, beautiful,” he murmurs, and Jefferson breaks into a smile before he’s even opened his eyes. 

Brock manages to coax him out of bed and into their new gym, and Jefferson gradually warms to the idea once Brock starts putting his hands on the omega to help him stretch. And his enthusiasm only grows as he pins Brock or throws him off again and again.

Brock’s letting him, just for practice.

At least…most of the time anyway.

“I’m getting pretty good, aren’t I?” Jefferson grins, his face glowing pink above Brock. 

“You are,” Brock replies. They’re both panting, but Jefferson still finds the breath to giggle, refusing to let up when Brock flexes slightly against his hold. “You’re getting strong too.”

“I like to think so,” he shrugs. He loosens his grip, and Brock takes the opportunity to run his hands over Jefferson’s biceps, grinning when the omega flexes for him. “So are we still going out tonight?”

“I think everyone would be worried if we didn’t show,” Brock sighs. Jefferson mimics that sigh before smiling.

“If you insist,” he murmurs, rolling off Brock and smoothly pushing himself up before extending his hands down to Brock. “I’m hungry.”

“So demanding,” Brock teases, grinning the whole time he’s being dragged to their kitchen.

The evening comes around soon enough, and Brock sneaks into the bathroom to wrap his arms around Jefferson’s waist while the omega’s getting ready. 

“Don’t mess me up,” Jefferson pouts as he picks up his bright red lipgloss. Brock’s favorite, as it happens.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he smirks, pressing a kiss to Jefferson’s shoulder. Jefferson rolls his eyes, starting to paint the gloss on his lips with slow, deliberate strokes. Brock stays silent, enjoying the view too much to want to ruin it by speaking, until Jefferson finally puts the tube down. “You have the prettiest mouth…”

Jefferson smiles, meeting Brock’s gaze in the mirror. “You only say that because you like what I can do with it.”

“Well that certainly helps,” Brock shrugs, making Jefferson burst into giggles. He finds himself grinning too, his next kiss finding Jefferson’s neck. Jefferson hums softly, tipping his head to expose more skin.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish,” he sighs.

“Says the person presenting his neck,” Brock teases back. Jefferson blushes but just purrs softly when Brock’s kisses continue up his neck, his eyes falling shut. “You know, I was thinking…”

“Yes?”

Brock smiles, nosing under Jefferson ear. “I was thinking I should get you something, if we’re going to be bonded. Like a ring or something.”

Jefferson’s eyes fly open, almost as quickly as he blushes bright enough to match his painted lips. “Y-you don’t have to,” he whispers. 

“For that face, I think I do,” Brock replies. Jefferson’s gaze falls as he laughs shyly.

“You really did mean it…?”

“Of course I did.” Brock turns Jefferson around slowly, takes his hands gently. “Do you really think I’d joke about something like that?”

“No, of course not,” Jefferson sighs, shaking his head, his eyes still lowered. “I just…I don’t know, I guess I was worried I’d just dreamed it.”

Brock sighs softly, pressing a kiss to Jefferson’s forehead. But when the omega still doesn’t look up at him, he just sighs again, sinking down to his knees. Jefferson eyes go wide in an instant, and Brock sees his breath catch in his chest. It just makes him smile more.

“You weren’t dreaming,” he says softly, kissing Jefferson’s hands, one after the other. “And I do mean it. I want to be your mate, if you’ll have me.”

Jefferson nods immediately, his soft hands gripping fiercely to Brock’s. “Of course I will,” he breathes, tugging Brock up into a hug so his next words fall against Brock’s neck. “Of course I will.”

Brock tightens his arms around Jefferson’s waist when he hears the omega’s breath hitch softly. “Come on, don’t cry, beautiful,” he murmurs, cupping Jefferson’s face gently.

“Sorry,” Jefferson whispers, squeezing his eyes shut as he tries to blink away the wetness in them. Brock just smiles, grabbing a tissue and pressing it gently along the edges of Jefferson’s lashes, careful not to smudge the kohl there.

“You don’t have to apologize,” he sighs. “You just asked me not to mess you up and now I’ve gone and done exactly that.”

Jefferson laughs softly, pushing away Brock’s hand so he can place a light kiss on Brock’s lips. “I love you so much,” he murmurs.

“I love you too,” Brock replies, licking strawberry from his lips. Jefferson beams at him, as soft and beautiful as ever. “My mate.”

A giggle bubbles past Jefferson’s lips as he blushes. “If you keep up like that we’re never gonna get out of here.”

“Maybe that’s the idea,” Brock grins softly. “You still wanna go out?”

“Yeah,” Jefferson nods. “Don’t know how I’m going to talk about anything but you all night, but I wanna go see everyone.”

“Ok,” Brock nods. He does still have to ask Nat about that counselor anyway.

Somehow, he really doesn’t know how, they actually manage to make it out of the house and to the bar, where Natasha, Maria, and Jack are already waiting for them.

“You’re late,” Jack calls over the commotion of the crowd, grinning as soon as he catches sight of them.

“Really?” Brock smirks. “Because it looks like the party’s just getting started.”

Jack scoffs, just for show, hiding the smirk that soon follows by taking a swig from his beer. Brock just keeps smirking as he sits down, pulling Jefferson into lap for a kiss. Jefferson squeaks in surprise, but kisses back immediately before pulling away to sit on his own stool. Brock just barely lets him go, their fingers lingering together.

“So what are you boys drinking tonight?” Natasha asks.

“I thought you weren’t working tonight?” Jefferson replies. Natasha shrugs, flashing a grin.

“Not technically, but I happen to enjoy what I do,” she chuckles, getting up and nudging her seat out of the way before smoothly hopping the bar. “So what’ll it be?”

“Well you know what I’m having,” Brock smiles, glancing over at Jefferson. “How about you? Are you gonna be brave again?”

Jefferson giggles, swatting Brock’s arm when Brock nudges his shoulder. “I guess so,” he grins after a moment. 

“Same thing as last time?” Nat asks.

Jefferson nods quickly. “Yeah.”

“Can someone fill me in?” Jack interjects while Natasha sets to work on their drinks, flipping bottles and glasses with just as much finesse as usual, much to the entertainment of everyone in viewing distance. Brock leans over to answer Jack’s question. 

“Jefferson decided last time we were here that he wanted to try a real drink,” he explains. “And he enjoyed himself quite a bit.”

“Is that so,” Jack grins, glancing over at Jefferson, who blushes and leans against Brock’s side. “You should be careful you don’t pick up any bad habits from your boyfriend.”

“What sort of bad habits?” Jefferson giggles.

“Well…” Jack shrugs still grinning. “Let’s just say that this guy wasn’t always the refined scotch drinker he is today. He used to be very good at getting very wasted.”

“Oh god, don’t tell him that,” Brock groans, Jefferson’s laughter making his heart flutter.

“No, no, _please_ tell me that,” Jefferson laughs. “Sounds like you’ve got some horror stories to tell.”

“Plenty,” Jack chuckles, and Brock just groans again. “Did he ever tell you about the time he got so drunk he started arguing with a barstool?”

“He most certainly did not,” Jefferson smirks. Brock just covers his face with his hand and settles in for a long night.

Jack regales Jefferson with all sorts of stories, and Natasha soon joins in, much to Maria’s delight. Brock just laughs along with them, dropping in details about Jack whenever he gets a chance. He gets an out when Natasha catches his eye, beckoning him off to a quieter corner of the bar. Brock kisses Jefferson’s cheek before slipping away to follow her.

“Yes, ma’am?” he chuckles once they’re alone. 

“You asked Jefferson to bond with you, didn’t you?”

Brock’s stunned silent for a moment, but really, he should know better when it comes to Natasha. “How’d you guess?”

“You two are hovering especially close to each other tonight,” she shrugs. “And he keeps looking at you like you hung the moon and stars.”

Brock laughs, glancing over at Jefferson, who’s still giggling with Jack and Maria on either side of him. The omega’s eyes find his, smiling brightly.

“See?”

“Yeah,” he nods, looking back at Nat. “You brought me over here just to ask that?”

“Well I didn’t want to make a huge deal of it,” she sighs. “Figured you two would want to keep it quiet until the deed’s done.”

“Seems like a good idea,” Brock smiles.

“But I also figured you might be looking for a good counselor,” she adds, pulling a piece of paper out of her pocket. “Here’s the number of the one Maria and I saw. She’s really good.”

“Thanks,” Brock nods, tucking the paper in his own pocket. “I meant to ask you for that.”

“Well you do get a little distracted around your baby,” Natasha chuckles.

Brock laughs as well, sighing softly. “Can I ask?” he murmurs. “What was it like? Bonding, that is?”

“Well I don’t think I got the full effect, being a beta and all,” Natasha shrugs, smiling softly. “But it was very intense. You should prepare yourself. Considering how close you and Jefferson already are, I’d bet what you experience will be ten times what Maria and I felt.”

Brock nods, glancing down with a fond smile. “We’re more than ready.”

Natasha looks like she’s about to respond when the sound of a glass being knocked over and shattered at the bar startles them both. Within a second Brock zeroed in on Jefferson, who’s wide-eyed and leaning into Maria, the two of them staring up at a hulking man who’s got Jack’s hand bunched in his collar, holding him back.

“What the hell is going on?” Brock shouts, storming his way back towards them. He can scent Jefferson’s fear even across the room, and it only grows heart-wrenchingly stronger as he gets closer.

“This guy thought it was ok to get handsy,” Jack hisses. Brock growls under his breath, putting himself between Jefferson and the man. He’s seen the guy around the bar before, had to throw him out on his ass a few times too for getting too rowdy. 

“And I was just saying that it’s alright,” the man smirks. “This pretty thing and I are old friends,” He’s looking Jefferson up and down now, in a way that has Brock growling again, and Jack’s hand tightening on his collar. Brock can see Maria and Nat out of the corner of his eye, both looking ready to kill as they frame Jefferson, who’s frozen, eyes far away.

“You ok, baby?” Brock asks softly, leaning closer. Jefferson doesn’t respond except to flinch when the man speaks again.

“Oh, so you’re his baby now?” he sneers. “You used to be mine. Go on, sugar, tell him all about what a sweet teenage dream you were for me.”

Tears spill over onto Jefferson’s cheeks, his eyes still unfocused as he starts to tremble. His lips part for nothing more than a whimper.

And then it clicks in Brock’s mind. Red curls at the edges of his vision as he whips around, grabbing the man by the neck and slamming him down on a table.

The whole bar is staring now, but the man still somehow has a grin on his face. 

“All defensive over a little thing like that?” he hisses, coughing when Brock’s hand tightens on his throat. “Hope you’re not too attached. He’s defective, you know. Can’t bond.”

“Did you really think you could bond with him after what you did?” Brock growls. “Rapists don’t get to have the people they hurt.”

His hand tightens again, until he feels the guy start to fight to breathe.He’s going to kill him, it’d be too easy—

“Brock…”

Jefferson’s small, scared voice makes him freeze, and when he sees Jefferson in his periphery, sees the tears running down the omega’s cheeks, his eyes wide and his mouth hanging open for little hitching sobs, Brock has to pull back. The man’s wrecked gasp for air grates on him like sandpaper, but at least Jack’s there to take Brock’s place, twisting the guy’s arm behind his back to immobilize him as soon as he tries to get up. 

Jefferson reaches out for Brock like a scared child, and Brock doesn’t hesitate to pull Jefferson close, holding him tight, away from prying eyes.

“I wanna go home,” Jefferson whimpers. “Please, please let’s just go home.”

“Ok, baby,” he whispers, running his hand through Jefferson’s hair. “We can go home.”

He pulls Jefferson to his feet, the omega clinging to him the whole time as he glances over at Jack. 

“Don’t worry, I’ve got this piece of shit taken care of,” Jack smirks. Brock nods, keeping one arm around Jefferson as they head for the door. 

They don’t make it three paces before Brock hears Jack groan in pain behind them, and half a second later he feels Jefferson being ripped from his side with a terrified cry. He turns around just in time to see Jefferson’s fist connect with the man’s nose, blood spurting from the impact as they both stumble back. 

“You fucking little bitch,” the man growls, not even bothering to hold his clearly broken nose as he lunges for Jefferson again. But Jefferson’s ready this time, his knee finding the man’s groin, and his foot connecting with the guy’s jaw as soon as he drops.

It’s over in seconds, and immediately after Jefferson’s stumbling back into Brock’s arms, sobbing now as the man rolls on the floor, clutching both his face and groin as he groans. Brock presses Jefferson against him, but he can’t help being stunned. “Holy shit, baby…”

“Get the fuck up,” Jack barks, dragging the man to his feet again. He looks over at Jefferson, clearly just as impressed as Brock is. “Anything else you’d like to make clear to this guy, kid?”

Jefferson slowly turns his face from where he’s had it buried in Brock chest, and Brock watches as teary blue eyes scan the man up and down. Jefferson’s breath hitches in another little sob, his jaw working until he pulls away from Brock just enough to spit in the man’s face.

“I-I’m not defective,” he hisses, clutching tight to Brock’s shirt. “You raped me.” He chokes on another sob, but Brock can feel the rage boiling just under the omega’s skin before it erupts in a yell: “I was seventeen and you raped me! I’m not broken. You are.”

The air quivers around Jefferson’s gasping breaths, until the omega finally turns away, his hand grasping Brock’s as he drags him towards the door. “We’re going. Now.”

Brock’s not about to argue, but Jefferson’s newfound rage carries only as far as his car. Brock sees the break coming when Jefferson’s steps begin to slow, his whole body quivering when he comes to a stop.

Brock’s there to catch him when his legs suddenly give out and a sob wrenches out of him, muffled as he presses his face into Brock’s shoulder.

“It’s ok,” Brock whispers, presses kiss into Jefferson’s hair as his sobs continue. “You were so brave, beautiful. You’re so brave and I’m so proud of you.” He pets Jefferson’s hair, holding him tight. “He’s never gonna mess with you again. It’s all over, I promise.”

“What if he does?” Jefferson whimpers. “He knows a place to find me now, what if he—”

Jefferson’s voice breaks off in another sob, but Brock leans back, cupping his face gently. “Listen to me,” he murmurs, waiting until Jefferson’s eyes find his. “If he didn’t already get the message that he’s not welcome, Jack’s gonna make sure he’s hears it loud and clear. You will never see him again.” He wipes the tears from Jefferson’s cheeks as the omega nods, and sighs softly. “And even if you do see him again, or if he or anyone else ever tries to hurt you, you have my express permission to break more than just a nose.”

It takes a moment, and it’s just a little smile at first, but soon enough Jefferson manages a weak little laugh, nodding as he wipes at his eyes. “Ok,” he murmurs. “I did get him pretty good, didn’t I?”

“Hell yeah you did,” Brock grins, making Jefferson laugh again. “He got exactly what was coming to him.”

Jefferson nods again, drawing in a shaky breath as his smile twists into a little frown. “I believed him for so long,” he whispers. “About being defective, unlovable…” He shakes his head, wrapping his arms around Brock’s neck, sighing softly when Brock holds him in return. “I finally don’t anymore.”

Brock closes his eyes, nodding as he presses Jefferson closer. “Good,” he murmurs, smiling when Jefferson giggles softly against his neck. “Come on, baby, let’s go home.”

“Ok,” Jefferson sighs, leaning back and cupping Brock’s face to kiss him. “I love you. So much.”

Brock smiles. “ _Ti amo anch’io, bello._ ” 


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this chapter's rather short, life has been a little too real for me at the moment, and I wanted to give you guys something to tide you over until I can manage to actually get back to writing the plot of this story. Hope you enjoy!

Jefferson’s in a funny mood for a while after that night. Perhaps Brock should’ve expected as much, but that doesn’t make it any easier to watch. Jefferson’s eyes are constantly far away, and he can’t seem to concentrate on anything for more than a few minutes. Brock loses count of the number of times he walks into their bedroom or the living room to find Jefferson just staring into nothing, some project or book forgotten in his lap.

Neither of them sleeps all that well either. Brock wakes up more than once to Jefferson sitting up in bed, staring out the window, his knees hugged to his chest. And when Brock does sleep, his dreams are full of twisting anxiety. Not the bloody reds, searing yellows, or sterile blacks and whites of his own nightmares, but deep blues and greens and greys, like being lost in a forest…or drowning…

It wakes him, and when it does, he presses delicate kisses to Jefferson’s hair until the sleeping omega’s face finally smoothes out into something peaceful.

He wishes there was something else he could do, but every time he asks, Jefferson just says it’s nothing and gives a smile that never reaches his eyes. Brock doesn’t believe him, but he doesn’t push, as much as he wants to. He just kisses Jefferson and tell him he loves him, and prays that it’s even close to enough.

It’s like they’ve taken several bad steps back, just when they were starting to take a few good ones forward.

Jefferson’s heat comes and goes, and for the first time they don’t have sex once during the whole week. Jefferson even apologizes for it.

“I know you must be going crazy having to be near me when I’m like this.”

“Come on, don’t you know me better than that by now?” Brock murmurs. It’s late, and they’re on their bed, Jefferson leaning heavily against Brock’s side. At least he still craves the closeness Brock’s dying to give him.

“I’m sorry,” Jefferson sighs again. Brock just kisses the top of Jefferson’s head. 

“It’s ok, baby.”

Jefferson bites his lip, tightening his arms around his knees. “I just know it’s tempting when I’m in heat. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“I’m not some sex-crazed animal, you know,” Brock mutters. He reaches for Jefferson’s hand and the omega squeezes back gently when he takes hold. “If you’re offering, nine times out of ten I’m not gonna say no. But if you’re not into it, neither am I, period.”

Jefferson lets out a shaky breath, nodding as he rests his head on Brock’s shoulder. “Thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me for that…”

“I mean thank you for saying it,” Jefferson sighs. “I need to be reminded of what’s normal is every once in a while.”

Brock nods, pressing another kiss to Jefferson’s hair. “It’s late, you should try to sleep.”

“I think I’m gonna read instead,” Jefferson shrugs, glancing up at Brock. “But you should sleep.”

Brock wants to argue, but knows it’s not worth the trouble. “If you insist, beautiful,” he smiles, kissing him when Jefferson tilts his head, soft and inviting. “I love you.”

“Love you too.”

******

More days pass. Jefferson goes for long walks in the park, and comes back with wildflowers that Brock recognizes from the garden when he goes for his daughter’s birthday. Brock puts them in a vase on the bedside table when Jefferson leaves them on the counter, just for the little smile that curls on Jefferson’s lips when he sees them.

Two weeks in, and Brock’s chest aches every time he looks at Jefferson. He needs to do something. Something to bring Jefferson back to him from whatever far-off place his head’s lost in. He can’t stand it.

It takes a couple days to plan, but when Sunday morning rolls around, he’s got everything lined up. Or at least, he hopes so… He’s been an anxious wreck for days.

But on the bright side, at least everything’s clean.

He wakes up late in the morning and slips out of bed while Jefferson’s still asleep, making up for all the time he spent tossing and turning the night before. Brock does his best to stay quiet staying as he makes breakfast, not that it’s easy. He’ll never understand how suddenly everything manages to become deafening the moment you want it to be silent, but somehow, he does manage, and when everything’s prepared, he slips back into the bedroom and sets the readied plate on the bedside table next to the wildflowers that are just beginning to wilt, before easing down next to Jefferson.

For a few moments, he can’t help but savor the expression on Jefferson’s face, his tangled eyelashes fluttering gently in what soft light is peeking in through the window. A stolen moment of innocence and peace. Brock smiles and leans in to place a soft kiss on the bridge of Jefferson’s nose, chuckling when it wrinkles sweetly.

“Morning, beautiful,” he murmurs, brushing the back of his hand along Jefferson’s cheek. Jefferson mumbles something, pursing his lips in a sleepy frown before blinking his eyes open.

“Good morning,” he murmurs, rubbing at his eyes as he pushes himself up. “Something smells good.”

“That would be because I made you pancakes,” Brock replies, tipping his head towards the plate. Jefferson’s eyes widen when he glances over to see what Brock’s set out for him and a little smile comes to his face when Brock kisses his cheek.

“You didn’t have to do that,” he breathes.

“I know,” Brock shrugs. “I wanted to.”

Jefferson blushes, glancing up at Brock through his eyelashes before picking up the plate. “Thank you,” he murmurs, eagerly taking his first bite once he’s smothered the pancakes in honey. Brock smirks when Jefferson’s smile gets a little brighter.

“Any good?”

“Of course,” Jefferson nods. “How’d you learn how to make these, anyway? You don’t usually seem like a pancakes kind of guy.”

“Used to make ‘em for Aiden,” Brock replies. “Found an old cookbook lying around when I was younger and with a little trial and error…”

He trails off when he sees how Jefferson has frozen, color rising in his cheeks as he looks away.

“M’sorry…”

“You don’t have to apologize,” Brock murmurs, pressing his lips to Jefferson’s forehead. “I’m ok talking about him now, I think. At least with you.”

“Right,” Jefferson nods. He lets out a long sigh, and when he shakes his head his curls fall over his eyes. “Guess I’m just a little sensitive today…”

“I know,” Brock sighs. He brushes back those soft curls gently, tipping Jefferson’s head up. “It’s alright, don’t worry about it.”

Jefferson nods again, managing a little smile before taking another bite. “You’re not gonna eat?”

“I had something while I was cooking,” Brock smiles. His teeth find his lip, nipping as his nervousness flares again. “Actually, I was wondering if you might like me to go run you a bath?”

Jefferson raises an eyebrow. “A bath?”

“Yeah,” Brock shrugs. “You know, just to relax…”

A slow smile spreads on Jefferson’s face as a knowing look glints in his eye. Brock shrugs again, sheepish. “Breakfast in bed, then a bath? Are you trying to spoil me or something?”

“Well these past couple of weeks it’s seemed like you might need it…” Brock murmurs, looking down. Of course Jefferson’s going to see right through him. “I don’t like seeing you unhappy.”

It’s quiet for a moment, then Jefferson’s hand slips down to grasp his. “Thank you,” Jefferson murmurs. “I know I’ve been weird…”

“And I’d like to think that I know why,” Brock sighs, squeezing Jefferson’s hand gently. “It’s ok for you to have a hard time, but just…let me spoil you for today?”

He glances up in time to see Jefferson smile softly, but still with those sad eyes. “Ok,” he murmurs. “A bath sounds lovely, but…sit with me for a while first?”

“Course, beautiful,” Brock smiles. Jefferson leans in for a kiss, and Brock chuckles softly when he tastes sweetness on the omega’s lips.

For the most part, they’re quiet as Jefferson eats, Brock stealing a few bites to make Jefferson giggle. Brock drinks in the happy sound. He’s missed it so much.

Brock finally manages to pull himself away when Jefferson insists on washing his own plate. While Jefferson goes to the kitchen, he heads to the bathroom, filling the tub and slipping in some of the lavender bath crystals he’d found at the store. Their scent begins to fill the room, and turns the water a faint purple. 

“You’re too much for me…”

Brock glances up from where he’s seated on the rim of the tub, smiling when he sees Jefferson leaning against the doorframe, his eyes glimmering

“Not too much,” he chuckles, holding out his hand to Jefferson. “I just love you and wanna make you happy.”

Jefferson takes his hand and Brock pulls him closer until Jefferson’s on his lap and smiling shyly. “You do make me happy,” Jefferson murmurs. “Even though it’s been hard to be happy these past few days…”

Brock nods. “I know, baby,” he sighs, stealing a kiss from Jefferson’s cheek before turning off the water. “Looks like you’re all set. Want me to leave you alone for a little while?”

“You can if you want,” Jefferson shrugs. “But I like having you here.” 

Brock isn’t exactly surprised. “Well I’m happy to oblige.” 

Jefferson stays on Brock’s lap as he pulls off his shirt, tossing it towards to hamper—and missing by a mile. They both laugh, Jefferson blushing softly as he shimmies out of the rest of his clothes and slips into the tub, moaning pleasantly.

“Feels pretty good, huh?” Brock smirks when Jefferson rolls his head back luxuriously.

“Yeah,” Jefferson nods, smiling as he swirls his fingers through the water. “You’ll have to tell me where you got those crystals.”

“Just at the grocery, nothing fancy,” Brock shrugs. Jefferson hums softly, his gaze wandering up to Brock’s. A smirk flashes on his face just half a second before he flicks his hand up, splashing Brock with water and erupting into giggles. Brock can’t help but laugh too as he wipes droplets off his face. 

“You know I was gonna offer to wash your hair for you,” he mutters, sending Jefferson a smirk. “Now I might just reconsider…”

“Aw…” Jefferson whines, sitting up so he can rest his chin on Brock’s thigh. “Please?”

As if Brock could say no to those big grey eyes blinking up at him, or the way Jefferson’s mouth pushes into a little pout when he shifts to rest his cheek against Brock’s thigh. “If you insist,” he sighs dramatically, making Jefferson smile. It almost reaches his eyes this time.

Jefferson tips his head back into the water to wet his hair while Brock gathers shampoo on his hands. Jefferson’s eyes slip closed the moment Brock’s hands start working through his curls.

“How’s that?” Brock asks. The goosebumps raising on Jefferson’s arms give him a pretty clear answer.

“Perfect,” Jefferson sighs, his eyes still closed as he leans into Brock’s hands. “Better than I’ve felt in a while.”

“Good,” Brock smiles. “You know, I got a couple other things for you, too.”

“Oh?”

“I noticed you eyeing that nail polish the other day, the light pink one,” Brock says, chuckling when a bit of color spreads on Jefferson’s cheeks. “Maybe I could help you paint your nails?”

“You’d really do that for me?” Jefferson murmurs, tipping his head back further to look up at Brock.

“Why not?” Brock grins. His lays off scrubbing, letting his fingers drift softly along Jefferson’s hairline, keeping the soapy froth from slipping anywhere near those beautiful eyes. When his fingers trail back behind Jefferson’s ears and down the nape of his neck, the omega shivers. “I’ll probably do a terrible job and we can have a good laugh about it.”

“Well I’m sure you’d do a better job than I could on myself,” Jefferson sighs. “Especially on my left hand.”

“Well what else am I here for?” Brock chuckles. Jefferson giggles softly, tipping his mouth up a little further, until Brock leans down to meet him for an upside-down kiss.

They’re both snorting with laughter inside two seconds.

“That looks a lot better than it feels,” Jefferson giggles. Brock nods, leaning back.

“You rinse out your hair, and do whatever else you need,” he murmurs, rinsing off his hands. “I’ll be right back.”

“Where are you going?” Jefferson asks, dipping his head back into the water. Delicate foam spreads out around his head as his hair curls through the water, his whole body shimmering under the surface of the water. Brock’s voice falters for a moment. 

“J-just to set up a little something for you,” he replies. Jefferson smiles right back, his eyes shining for the first time in weeks. “Ti amo.”

Jefferson giggles softly, the sound of water splashes ringing through the tiled room as he sits up and pulls his knees to his chest, his wet curls clinging to the curves of his face and body. “I love you too.”

Brock’s got to get out of the room before the heat swimming in his head makes him faint.

He pulls their quilt off the bed and carries it to the adjacent room. They’ve managed to clear most of the boxes out, leaving the floor empty. Brock lays the quilt down in the pool of sunlight below one of the windows and, after a few more trips between bedrooms, covers it with a couple more quilts and blankets, arranging their pillows against the wall for a comfortable backrest. Another trip to the kitchen produces a fresh cup of tea for Jefferson, which he leaves to cool on the window sill, next to the bottle of nail polish he’s recovered from his bedside table.

When he peeks back into the bathroom, Jefferson’s out of the tub, one towel wrapped around his waist as he runs another over his hair, his skin pink and plump from the warm water.

“How’re you feeling?”

Jefferson shrugs in response, his smile shy once again. “Pretty good,” he murmurs, stepping into Brock’s arms as soon as their opened to him. “Do you have something in mind for me to wear too?”

“No,” Brock laughs, cupping Jefferson’s face for a little kiss. “Wear whatever makes you happy.”

Jefferson nods, his vague smile still there as he takes Brock’s hand and wanders towards the closet. “Don’t watch,” he says to Brock over his shoulder.

Brock can’t resist a chuckle. “Baby, it’s nothing I haven’t seen before.”

“Maybe I want you to be surprised,” Jefferson pouts, though his lips quirk in a hint of a smile. Brock nods, obediently stepping towards the door.

“If you insist,” he sighs. “I’ll be in the other bedroom when you’re ready.”

“What’s in there?”

“That’s my surprise for you, beautiful,” Brock grins, making Jefferson roll his eyes, even as they continue to glint affectionately. He leaves Jefferson to change, reclining on the pile of blankets in the opposite room as he waits. When Jefferson enters a few minutes later, they’re both left a bit breathless.

“Brock…” Jefferson breathes, looking over the little nest Brock’s made for them. “You really did this for me?”

“Of course.” Brock flashes a grin, waving Jefferson closer as he looks up and down the omega’s infinite legs, covered by sheer white stockings. “You look beautiful.”

Jefferson blushes softly as he sits down, readjusting Brock’s black jacket when it slips off one shoulder. “These are my favorite,” he murmurs. “And since you said you got the pink polish I thought…”

“Thought you should match?” Brock finishes for him, his eyes wandering down to wear the clasps of the pink garter belt meet the stockings on Jefferson’s upper thigh. They went together to buy this set, Brock can imagine the silky pink panties Jefferson must be wearing, even though their hidden by his jacket. 

“Yeah,” Jefferson shrugs, smiling softly. When Brock leans closer, Jefferson readily offers up a kiss. When Brock pulls away, he reaches for the teacup, pressing it into Jefferson’s waiting hands. The omega drinks deeply, relaxing back against the pillows. “Thank you,” he murmurs. 

“Happy to do it,” Brock nods. His hand rests on Jefferson’s thigh, rubbing the soft skin underneath silky fabric. “How are you feeling?”

“Are you just gonna keep asking me that?” Jefferson sighs.

“Probably,” Brock chuckles, relieved when Jefferson smiles. “I’ve been worried about you.”

“I know,” Jefferson murmurs. “And I’m sorry that I’ve been distant.” He sets his cup down in his lap and sighs. “You’ve been trying to get me to talk and I just…”

He trails off, and Brock waits, his hand rubbing Jefferson’s thigh softly. It takes a moment, but Jefferson finds his voice again.

“Guess I’m not used to having someone to talk to,” he sighs. “For most of my life I never really had anybody I was close to. When I was having a rough time, I got used to just shutting down.”

“I know how you feel,” Brock nods. “You always seem so open though, never thought it was that much of an issue.”

“Well I’ve been so happy with you that the issue never came up,” Jefferson says, a quiver in his voice that warns of a coming break. “And even before I’d met you, I hadn’t had a…a mood like this in a while, other than what happened with my heats.”

“Seeing him again triggered it for you?” Brock asks. Jefferson nods.

“I thought I was ok at first. It felt good to confront him, but afterwards…” The break finally comes, Jefferson’s hand pressing against his forehead like he’s in pain. “God, it was like every time I closed my eyes all these memories kept coming back…”

He hunches over, fingers pressed roughly into his forehead, angry red marks beginning to show under his fingertips. Brock covers that hand with little kisses, prying the teacup from Jefferson’s hand so he can gently guide him back.

“It’s ok,” he whispers, desperate. “Lie down, beautiful, it’s more comfortable.” Jefferson willing goes back to land against the pillows, which Brock carefully adjusts under his back and shoulders, until Jefferson’s surrounded, perfectly protected. When Jefferson reaches for him, Brock’s hands immediately cover every inch in reach, stroking his cheeks, his hair, his arms, his chest. But Jefferson’s breathes are still shaky, and the redness around his eyes says there are tears to come.

“You’ve been thinking about your daughter, haven’t you?” he asks softly. Jefferson nods.

“One of the memories I can’t seem to shake,” he laughs bitterly. “I keep going back to that time, when I choose to give her up, and afterwards…” He shakes his head, and looks away. Brock can’t help but remember the images that have been creeping into his dreams. Being lost, drowning…

“I know you’ve been going back to that garden in the park,” he murmurs. “Does that help?”

“It’s peaceful there,” Jefferson replies, shrugging. “I guess that how I like to imagine her, peaceful.” Watery blue eyes look up at Brock, who can’t do anything but nod. “You asked me once, if I regretted having the abortion, and I told you no…” Jefferson’s breath hitches as he says it, and Brock feels a hollowness in his chest he’s scared might swallow them both. “I guess I’m actually not sure. Sometimes I know it was the right thing, but other times I just feel so guilty…”

His voice breaks off again, and when Brock sees tears spilling over from the omega’s eyes, he’s quick to try to brush them away. “It’s alright,” he whispers, for want of something, anything better to say. Jefferson just shakes his head.

“I’m sorry,” he chokes out, his hand flying up the cover his eyes. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be crying…”

“Shh,” Brock hushes him softly, pressing soft kisses to the hand hiding Jefferson’s eyes. He shifts closer, so his body’s nearly covering Jefferson’s. Jefferson’s said before that he feels safe that way, with Brock over him. “It’s ok to be upset, beautiful.”

Jefferson shakes his head weakly. “These past couple of weeks…it’s like I’ve been on the verge of tears the whole time.” He scrubs at his eyes again, letting out another bitter laugh. “I guess talking about it just flipped the switch.”

Brock nods, and when Jefferson hides his face in Brock’s shoulder, he runs his fingers through the omega’s hair. It’s not long before he starts to feel wetness seeping through his shirt. “Sometimes you just need to cry,” he mutters, tucking his head into the crook of Jefferson’s neck so his words brush over the omega’s skin. “You said that to me, remember? Right after I told you about Aiden and my father. That crying can make you feel better in the long run.” He laughs weakly, stroking Jefferson’s side. “Can’t hurt to take your own advice.”

Jefferson’s breath hitches again, but he nods slightly and burrows closer. He seems so small in Brock’s arms, Brock can’t help but hold him tighter. Jefferson weak sniffles and little sobs continue, little slivers of glass slicing into Brock’s chest. 

“I was so scared,” Jefferson whispers. “That night, he just showed up and I was so, so scared…”

“You had a right to be,” Brock replies.

“I haven’t felt like that since the night he tried to claim me,” Jefferson continues. “H-he just barged into my room and pinned me against a wall… It hurt so much when he bit me, but rejecting the bond was worse. I went numb everywhere and I thought I was gonna be sick. It was like being forced out of my own body.”

Brock nods. He’s heard about how ugly a failed bond can be. Being so young and terrified can only have made it worse for Jefferson. He lets his eyes close. If he had it his way, Jefferson would never have to hurt or be scared again.

“You’re safe now,” he murmurs, his hand carding through Jefferson’s hair again. “You know that, right?”

“I do,” Jefferson replies. “That’s what makes it so frustrating to go through one of these depressions. I know I’m safe and loved and that I have every reason to be happy, but I just can’t manage it…” He sighs, shaking his head. “Feel like it’s not fair to you, me being like this…”

“Don’t say that,” Brock insists. “This isn’t about me.” When Jefferson just shrugs, Brock leans back just enough so he can nudge Jefferson’s head up. “I mean it,” he sighs, reaching up to wipe away the tears away from Jefferson’s eyes. “You’re allowed bad days, or bad weeks. I didn’t sign up to just love you when you’re happy.”

A little smile comes to Jefferson’s face, and he nods after a moment. “I guess I should know that by now, you’ve already seen a hell of a lot of bad from me.”

“And you’ve seen me have some not-so-pretty moments too,” Brock shrugs. “Just comes with the territory.”

Jefferson manages a little laugh, a real one this time, wiping at his eyes again as he gives a last sniffle. “I guess so,” he sighs. “I-I think I am getting better, though I can’t promise this sort of thing won’t happen again.”

“I know,” Brock nods. “The only thing I’m gonna ask is, if it does happen again, or if you don’t get better right away, don’t try to deal with it all by yourself. It drives me crazy to see you hurting, I just wanna help.”

“I will,” Jefferson murmurs. “Or, I’ll try. You may have to do something like this every once in a while to remind me it’s ok.”

“If that’s what you need then that’s what I’ll do,” Brock grins. Jefferson ducks his head when Brock’s leans closer, his kiss falling on Jefferson’s hair. “So now I have to ask again,” he murmurs, and Jefferson laughs softly. “How’re you feeling?”

“Honestly?” Jefferson sighs. “I don’t know…not quite bad, not quite good, I guess?”

Brock nods. He’s known that feeling, after you’ve felt too much, and you’ve forgotten how to tell which emotion is which. “Well that’s better than crying, right?”

“Definitely,” Jefferson nods. He sighs again, a little smile wandering onto his face. “Do you think you could still paint my nails?”

“Course I can,” Brock grins. “But finish your tea first?”

“Don’t want me getting dehydrated?” Jefferson sighs, pushing himself up a little and reaching for his cup.

“You see right through me,” Brock replies. 

Soon enough the empty mug is set off to the side, and Brock’s got one of Jefferson’s hands carefully laid on his own as he paints the pale pink color over his nails. 

“You’re actually pretty good at this,” Jefferson murmurs. Brock glances up just long enough to flash a grin before returning his attention to Jefferson’s hand.

“I looked up a couple videos, just to make sure I had some idea what I was doing,” he admits.

“Did you really?”

“Well it seems like this would be a lot less fun if I was really awful at it,” Brock shrugs. Jefferson giggles softly. “What do you think?”

Jefferson tips his completed hand up, smiling warmly as a little blush comes to his cheeks. “I love it,” he murmurs, wiggling his fingers so the fine glitter in the polish catches in the light. “You don’t think it’s too much?”

“Too much?” Brock can’t help but chuckle. The color’s barely two shades different from the natural color of Jefferson’s nails. “Baby, no one’s even gonna see it unless they’re really looking for it.”

Jefferson nods, but his little sigh tells Brock he’s not fully placated. “But you know it’s there, so you’re gonna look for it…”

Brock blinks, then chuckles, just to cover up the pang in his chest. “You think I’m not gonna like it? You do remember that I’m the one sitting here doing the painting, right?”

Jefferson shrugs, huffing this time. “Guess I’m just always worried you’re gonna hit some kind of limit with me liking…feminine stuff.”

Brock shakes his head, reaching for Jefferson’s unpolished hand and kissing it lightly before setting to work on painting the next coat on his nails. “I’m never gonna tell you that you shouldn’t do something with your body, unless, I don’t know, it’s something dangerous or whatever.”

He glances up to see Jefferson nodding, a sad little smile on the omega’s face. “I just remember that you said you like guys…”

“Well last I checked, you are a guy,” Brock shrugs, turning his attention back to Jefferson’s nails. “But at this point, I just like you.” He shakes his head, correcting himself. “I love you, and that’s got nothing to do where whether or not you’re wearing nail polish, or whether you’ve got on panties or boxers. You could wake up tomorrow and tell me you’re not a guy and I’d still love you.”

When Jefferson’s quiet for too long, Brock looks up, freezing when he sees tears in Jefferson’s eyes. “What did I do…”

“Nothing,” Jefferson whispers, wiping at his eyes with the heel of his hand. “Except say all the right things.”

Brock lets out a little breath, a sigh of relief, pressing forward for a kiss when Jefferson leans towards him.

“I love you, too,” Jefferson murmurs. “And thanks for always saying the right thing.”

“I promise it’s dumb luck most of the time,” Brock grins. Jefferson’s laugh is brighter than the sunlight streaming in around them.

He finishes with Jefferson’s hands and, at Jefferson’s shy request, does his toes as well, taking his time rolling those sheer stockings down long, perfect legs and letting his fingertips tickle Jefferson’s skin. The morning turns into afternoon, and soon enough they’re reclining together in their comfortable nest of pillows and blankets, the remainder of the food they ordered in scattered in boxes next to them. 

“Doing a little better?” Brock murmurs, intertwining his fingers with Jefferson’s resting on the omega’s belly.

“Yeah,” Jefferson nods. “Not perfect, maybe, but better.”

“I’m glad,” Brock smiles. “I’ve…I’ve got one more surprise for you, actually.”

“Oh?” Jefferson asks. “And what would that be?”

Brock laughs, just a touch nervous as he reaches into his pocket. “I-I got it a week or so ago, but I was trying to wait for the right time to give it to you,” he says as he pulls out the velvet box. Jefferson gasps, the sound muffled by his hand flying up to cover his mouth. “I’m hoping this is the right time.”

Jefferson’s eyes are wide as Brock opens the little box, revealing the ring inside. It’s silver, with delicate filigree curls around the tiny amethysts dotted through the band. “I know it’s not a big diamond or anything like that, but I hope you like it.”

“I love it,” Jefferson murmurs, sounding breathless. His smile has Brock feeling the same way. 

“Really?”

“I do,” Jefferson breathes. “I do, I really do.”

Brock smiles wide as he takes the ring out of the box, and Jefferson giggles softly as he slides it into place on the omega’s finger. “Perfect fit,” he says as he presses a kiss the the back of Jefferson’s hand.

Jefferson nods “How’d you know the size to get?”

“I brought one of your other rings to the jewelry store, and had ‘em measure it,” Brock grins.

“Clever,” Jefferson giggles. He cups Brock’s face, bringing him in for a kiss as he leans back into the pillows. Brock goes with him readily, stroking his finger along Jefferson’s cheek and down his side. 

“Thank you,” Jefferson murmurs when they finally pull away from each other. “It’s beautiful, thank you.”

“You’re beautiful,” Brock chuckles, nuzzling Jefferson’s neck when the omega giggles. “I’m glad you like the ring.”

Jefferson giggles again, looking down to where the ring sparkles on his finger. “I’m glad to hadn’t changed your mind, about wanting to bond with me.”

“As if I could,” Brock sighs. “Whenever you’re ready, we can start the whole process.”

Jefferson nods, smiling softly as he looks back at Brock. “Once we’re bonded…” he whispers, chewing his lip for a moment. “I want to take your last name.”

It takes a few seconds before Brock can string a sentence together, but as soon as he can manage he stutters out “Y-you don’t have to…”

“But I want to,” Jefferson insists. “My last name never meant anything to me. Doe…like a corpse on a cop show…”

“Don’t say that,” Brock sighs, guilty as he remembers thinking the same thing when Jefferson first told him. He kisses Jefferson’s cheek lightly, then his lips when Jefferson turns toward him. “I’d love for you to have my last name.”

“I’d love it, too,” Jefferson smiles. “Just give me a few more days, til I’m feeling better. Then we can go see that counselor.” He blushes softly, inviting another kiss on his cheek. “I’m ready to be yours.”

The words set heat blooming in Brock’s stomach, primal and flaring even hotter when Jefferson’s soft, stockinged foot rubs against his ankle. “You know I’m already yours, baby,” he whispers, moments before Jefferson’s lips make contact with his.

Jefferson’s hands pull him closer, and when Jefferson’s legs spread Brock easily settles between them. The metal of Jefferson’s new ring sends shivers through Brock when Jefferson’s hand brushes along his jaw.

“Is this you offering?” Brock asks softly.

Jefferson blushes, but after a pause, shakes his head. “No,” he whispers. “I’m sorry, I’m just not…”

He trails off, but Brock nods. “It’s ok,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to Jefferson’s forehead. “That’s why I ask.”

Jefferson nods as well, managing a little smile. “Can you just hold me? Like this.” Brock’s arms are curling around Jefferson’s body in an instant, and the omega smiles. “Makes me feel safe.”

“I remember,” Brock replies. “Can I kiss you?”

“Of course you can kiss me,” Jefferson laughs softly and Brock doesn’t hesitate to cover those soft pink lips with his own. He breathes deep Jefferson’s sweet softness, pressing into him as something golden blooms between them. Beautiful, comfortable, safe.

The sun’s rising in the window by the time they move from that little nest on the floor.


	15. Chapter 15

That new ring doesn’t come off Jefferson’s finger once after it goes on. Jefferson wears it to bed, in the shower, even while he’s knitting or sewing, despite the fact that the new weight clearly gives him a bit of trouble at first. But out of sheer determination–and what’s obviously a healthy amount of stubbornness–he adapts, until it’s like the ring was always meant to be there.

Brock smiles every time he sees those tiny purple gems winking at him, and his glances don’t go unnoticed. When Jefferson lets their cuddling to turn to lovemaking for the first time in weeks, it starts with soft hand-holding and little kisses pressed to delicate fingers.

Afterwards, they’re still panting when Jefferson offers up a kiss and whispers against Brock’s lips that he’s ready to bond. Brock barely gets out his promise that they will, soon, as soon as possible, before they’re falling into each other all over again.

They always were good at making up for lost time.

******

Things fall into place soon enough, after several days of numerous calls to doctors and therapists so the counselor will have all their records. Brock makes the calls, with Jefferson close by his side. Before they know it, they’re in a comfortable room, waiting for their counselor to meet them. The place is set up like a living room in someone’s home: plush chairs and a multitude of pillows in calming blues and taupes. It reminds Brock a little of their own home, that, after a month, is almost completely set in order, only a few things here and there that they haven’t found places for.

“Sorry I’m late.”

Brock looks up when the counselor walks in. She looks about his age, her brilliant violet hair pinned up in braids, piercings running up the length of her ears. Omega and mated, her bondmark exposed by her off-the-shoulder blouse. Brock smiles back when she flashes a grin.

“I’m Megan,” she says, extending her hand to them both. Jefferson greets her in his sweet, shy voice, introducing them both. Brock interlocks his fingers with Jefferson’s, nodding politely.“So, you’re here because you’re looking to bond with each other?”

“Yeah,” Jefferson replies, sounding adorably breathless with excitement as he squeezes Brock’s hand. Brock smiles at the feeling of Jefferson’s ring pressing into his skin. 

“Well congratulations,” Megan smiles. “Did you have a date in mind for when you want to bond?”

Jefferson shrugs, smiling softly. “As soon as we can, really.”

Brock nods in agreement. “We’ve waited long enough.” 

“I hear that a lot,” Megan chuckles. “How long have you been together?”

It’s not a question that should stump then, but a beat too long passes before Brock glances at Jefferson, who’s looking back at him, lip between his teeth. A second more and Brock snorts, setting Jefferson giggling. 

“It depends on where you start counting from, I guess,” Brock laughs.

“We got together kind of…unusually,” Jefferson explains when Megan raises a questioning eyebrow. “We first met on September 5th of last year and we had a sort of on-again-off-again thing for a while. We didn’t really start dating until December 11th.”

Brock nods, doing his best to quash the little twinge of guilt that arises because he didn’t know those dates off the top of his head. 

“Well, it’s getting close to a year since you met,” Megan smiles. “That’s exciting.”

“I guess so,” Jefferson murmurs. Brock nods, feeling the same indifference he sees in Jefferson’s shrug. That’s not exactly a date they’re dying to memorialize, but…a full year. He never could’ve imagined they’d get this far.

Megan nods as well, seeming to understand. “Well, let’s get down to business, so you can be one step closer to your bonding.”

Jefferson giggles, tucking his head against Brock’s shoulder. “Ok.”

Megan grins, and even laughs a little. Another person fallen victim to Jefferson’s charms. “So, usually my job is to educate you on how to go through the bonding ritual–what are the steps, how to keep yourselves comfortable, when’s the best time–and to make sure you’re both healthy enough, mentally and physically, for a bond to be safe.”

“Mentally?” 

Jefferson’s the one who says it first, but Brock’s right on his heels. Megan blinks in surprise at their synchronicity.

“Some severe mental disorders, usually psychotic disorders, but some personality disorders as well, can prevent the mental bond from taking hold,” she explains. “But usually that’s only a problem is the condition has been untreated for a while, or if the person’s in the middle of a psychotic break or episode. I didn’t see any red flags like that in your files.”

Brock nods. “Yeah, we don’t have anything like that,” he sighs. 

“You both jumped on it pretty quickly,” Megan says, pursing her lips around her searching tone. “Was that a major concern for you?”

Jefferson shrugs. “I guess so,” he murmurs. “But, you’ve seen all our records, so you know…”

Megan nods. “You can tell me in your own words, if you like. Sometimes hearing the person themselves talk about it is more illuminating than reading a doctor’s clinical notes.”

Jefferson glances over at Brock, hesitating until he gets an encouraging nod. “I’ve got a disorder that made my heats affect me really strongly,” he explains. “I would lose control of my emotions, sometimes black out. I’m on medication for it now, though.”

“That shouldn’t be a problem, I’ve had clients like you before, none of them had any issues.” Megan smiles. “Anything else?”

They both hesitate, and this time Jefferson’s the one to give a little nod to Brock. “We both suffer from PTSD to some extent,” Brock sighs, stroking his thumb along the back of Jefferson’s hand. “Nightmares, some compulsions…” Borrowing words from his own doctor. “And if something really bad happens…I-I guess you could call ‘em depressions…” 

Megan nods, not needing further explanation.

“That shouldn’t be a problem either,” she says. “Though a bond may make you more able to understand each other’s moods and triggers, because of the mental link.”

Brock glances over at Jefferson. “Does that sound ok with you?”

“Of course it does,” Jefferson smiles. “I mean, we’re already seeing each other’s dreams, is this really such a big leap?” 

Brock chuckles. There had been a time when the thought of sharing his head with somebody was terrifying. Now…it just seems so natural. The next logical step, especially considering how often they’ve both said they wished they knew what was going on in the other’s head. “I guess so.”

Obviously, Megan’s trying to make herself unobtrusive, because she doesn’t speak until they’re both looking back to her. It takes longer than Brock cares to admit. Getting lost in each other, even in public… One more thing they’ve always been good at.

“Well I’m glad we got that sorted,” Megan says. “And you’re both physically healthy, so no reason there why you shouldn’t be able to bond. Any other questions right off the bat?”

Jefferson opens his mouth, but hesitates with a little breath. Megan nods at him to continue.

“C-can…” Jefferson stutters, hesitating again as he looks down.

“Yes?”

“Can having rejected a bond with a different person affect if I’m able to do it now?”

Brock’s heart twists as Jefferson says it, and he clasps Jefferson’s hand tighter when it trembles. He wishes he could be surprised by the question… 

Sadness colors Megan’s eyes, but there’s no surprise in her either. “Could you tell me the circumstances of that failed bond?”

Jefferson bites his lip, pulling Brock’s hand into his lap. Brock lays his fingers open, palm up, free for Jefferson’s fidgety touches. “I-I was assaulted, when I was a teenager. The man who attacked me tried to force a bond.”

Megan nods slowly, sighing as she leans on the arm of her chair. “Bonds don’t take for all sorts of reasons,” she starts, a practiced line. “But unfortunately, the most common is that one person isn’t willing. When that’s the case, it’s not the fault of the person who rejects the bond, and it’s not indicative of any inherent problem. It just means that the situation, or the people involved, aren’t right. I don’t see any reason why you shouldn’t be able to bond because of that.”

The smile that comes to Jefferson’s face brightens the room like a wash of sunlight, and his sigh of relief has Brock’s body relaxing right alongside the omega’s. “Thank you,” Jefferson murmurs. “That’s something I’ve always been scared of.”

“I understand,” Megan sighs. “I hope you’re feeling better about it now?”

Jefferson nods quickly. “Yeah, of course,” he smiles. “I-I just didn’t want anything to…” He trails off, but his eyes find Brock, who nods, pressing a kiss to Jefferson’s hand.

“Don’t want anything getting in the way,” he finishes. Megan nods, and before long a little smirk crosses her face.

“Are you sure you two aren’t bonded already?”

Brock has to grin, especially when he sees Jefferson blushing furiously. Teasing isn’t far behind. “You said something to that effect a while ago, didn’t you, beautiful?” he says, nudging his shoulder against Jefferson’s.

Jefferson nods, still blushing as a smile finds his lips. “Well turns out the professional thinks I’m right, sweetheart,” he retorts, nudging back. All three of them laugh, Jefferson’s bright giggles glinting off the walls. 

“I only say it because it seems like you’re already doing a lot of the things most mates don’t do until after they’re bonded,” Megan shrugs. “Sharing dreams, finishing each other’s sentences and thoughts…”

Jefferson’s blush deepens as he tucks his head against Brock’s shoulder. “Well it’s not all the time, but, yeah, I guess so.”

“Has it been happening more recently?”

It gives them both pause, Jefferson’s lips pursing into a surprised little frown.

“I…guess it has,” Brock replies. He hadn’t really thought about it before… “Ever since we decided we wanted to bond.” Jefferson nods, confirming.

“I’ve heard of that before, with couples who are already close,” Megan smiles. “Once you decide to mate, there can be a certain sense of urgency to make the bond happen.”

“I’d agree with that,” Jefferson mutters. Brock snorts, hoping it’s not obvious how heat tingles on his skin. How many times have they made love in the past week with Brock’s lips fixed to Jefferson’s neck the whole time…

‘A certain sense of urgency’ doesn’t quite cover it.

“So should we talk about how to go through the ritual?” Megan asks, a knowing smile on her face that broadens when they nod in unison. “You should know, every part is optional. Even the sex. Not everyone’s comfortable with everything, so you can change any part to fit what you’re ok with.”

“Right,” Brock nods. “We did want to be kinda traditional, though.” So much of their relationship hasn’t been, it feels right, grounding, to get back to tradition now.

“And I’m pretty sure we’re ok with the basics,” Jefferson adds. “I mean, it’s just…” In spite of his bravado seconds before, Jefferson’s voice fades as a furious blush comes to his face. Brock can’t blame him. Bonding is so private, something shared between the couple only, cloistered away in their private space protected from any other distractions. Almost no one discusses it in public. 

Megan takes over. “Feeding each other, bathing each other, and of course, physical intimacy, before giving the bondmark.”

Brock has to bite down on his tongue, before the reaction in his body becomes too obvious. But the thought of finally sinking his teeth into Jefferson’s skin, leaving a scar to last, permanently marking them as mates…

Jefferson’s hand tightens around his, their thoughts aligning once again.

“Nothing we haven’t at least tried before,” Brock manages to reply. Megan nods.

“The eating and bathing are practical, as well as romantic,” she continues. “After the bond’s been made, many couples go into a kind of trance and stay in bed for hours, even days, especially if one or both of you is in the peak of your cycle. So you want to be clean and fed and hydrated before hand.”

“But it’s ok if we aren’t in a peak, right?” Jefferson quickly asks.

“Of course,” Megan answers. “Is that what you would prefer?”

“I think so,” Jefferson sighs, glancing over at Brock, who nods. “We didn’t want to have to use a condom, and even though I’m on birth control…”

“Understood,” Megan chuckles. “While we’re on the subject of scheduling, there is technically another step that most people forget: abstinence.”

Brock can’t help but snort, raising an eyebrow. “We haven’t been abstinent…”

“She means right before,” Jefferson laughs softly. “Right?”

“Right,” Megan nods. “Anywhere from a couple weeks to a couple days before, and you can abstain from just sex, or include kissing and other touching. Again, it’s whatever you’re comfortable with.”

Brock nods, glancing to make sure Jefferson’s doing the same. He can see the logic of it. Going without sex is another thing they’re no stranger to, and getting to be together after the denial never fails to be intense. 

“That’s something the two of you can talk through, along with deciding when you want to bond,” Megan smiles. “But every couple I’ve ever asked said they were glad they abstained beforehand, myself included. It adds a special level of intensity, despite how hard it can be to resist temptation.”

“I’m sure we’ll manage.” Brock smiles, chuckling when Jefferson lights up with a pretty blush.

Megan walks them through suggestions for what they should eat beforehand–they both blush at the suggestion that they should feed each other by hand, but neither of them protests–then how they should set up their apartment, what they should wear to be most comfortable, even different positions for bonding. By the time their appointment is up, Brock’s more than grateful for the notes Megan insisted they take.

They set a date, one week after where they expect Jefferson’s heat and his rut to fall–one day before the anniversary of the night they met–and decide to abstain for those entire few weeks. Sex and kissing, since they do tend to do an awful lot of both. 

In the first few days, they slip up twice. Once when Brock’s about to leave for his shift and, out of habit, leans over the kitchen table for a goodbye kiss that Jefferson doesn’t fight.And once early in the morning, when Jefferson rolls on top of Brock while they’re both still too sleepy to realize they shouldn’t be indulging in lazy morning kisses.

Jefferson blushes sweetly each time they realize their mistake, giggling softly.

“I won’t tell if you won’t,” Brock murmurs.

“I’ll hold you to it,” Jefferson replies.

They’re better the next time temptation almost wins out. It’s Brock’s mistake again, unthinkingly trying to catch Jefferson against the door before the omega leaves for work. Jefferson’s soft fingers stop his lips, a little, apologetic smile quirking on the omega’s face.

“Sorry,” Brock mumbles. 

“It’s ok,” Jefferson sighs. His hand glides away from Brock’s mouth and along his jaw, and Brock leans into that touch, letting his eyes close. Barely a moment passes before he feels Jefferson’s forehead rest against his own, and, when he straightens his head, their noses brush together, just enough to cause a flutter in Brock’s stutter. Jefferson giggles, his breath ghosting against Brock’s lips. “You’re gonna make me late…”

Brock laughs softly as well, trailing the tip of his nose up the bridge of Jefferson’s “Want me to drive you?” 

“I wouldn’t get out of the car…” 

Brock chuckles again, pulling back so he can watch Jefferson’s eyes flutter open, his arms weaving around the omega’s waist. “Ti amo, bello.”

“Love you too,” Jefferson smiles. “You gonna let me go?”

Brock nods, squeezing Jefferson’s waist before pulling back, much as he doesn’t want to.

They get more creative as the days go by and the withdrawal gets worse. They spend hours in their little gym, wrestling together, and letting Jefferson throw punches and kicks. Any excuse to get their hands on each other, especially once they both start to peak.

It’s bad enough for Brock when Jefferson pins him, red-faced and panting as his thighs squeeze around Brock’s hips, but Brock damn near loses his mind during the times Jefferson lets him get the upper hand, going soft and sweet-scented as he’s pressed into the mat. When Brock gives in and leans closer to nuzzle against Jefferson’s neck, the omega’s all too quick to tilt his head and present himself.

“You’re gonna kill me…” Brock mutters.

“Only if you don’t kill me first,” Jefferson breathes, resting his cheek against Brock’s. “You’d think we’d be good at this by now.”

“You’d think,” Brock chuckles. He lets his body relax, shifting his forearms to prop him up on either side of Jefferson’s body and letting his chest meet Jefferson’s. The omega’s hands come up to press against Brock’s shoulders, sending warmth through him.

“Maybe it’s because this time I don’t mean it when I say no,” Jefferson murmurs. Brock groans softly, muffling his voice in Jefferson’s shoulder. “Especially now, I hate missing heat with you…”

“We’ll have plenty more after this one,” Brock murmurs, managing a little smirk. “I’ll make it up to you.”

“I know, it’s the only thing keeping me going,” Jefferson giggles, nuzzling into the crook of Brock’s neck. “But for now…get off me before I eat you alive.”

Brock has to laugh, even if the tug in his lower stomach is painful as he pulls away.

Just a few more days. They mold themselves against each other at every spare moment, but it’s not enough. Not with clothing getting in the way and their lips burning with the need to connect with each other’s skin. Brock catches himself staring at Jefferson, and he catches Jefferson staring right back, until just making eye contact is enough to leave them breathless and holding hands is enough to have them shivering.

A certain sense of urgency has become the understatement of the decade…

******

“Are you nervous?”

The question hangs in the air after Brock says it, and Jefferson pulls his lower lip between his teeth. They’re on the couch, evening light coming in through the window to cast pinks and golds on Jefferson’s skin.

Jefferson, who’ll be his bonded mate before the night is out. 

“Yeah, a little,” Jefferson finally answers, managing a little laugh. “It’s just…it’s real now, you know? I never thought it’d be real.”

“I know what you mean,” Brock smiles. He reaches for Jefferson’s hand, slowly intertwining their fingers. Jefferson’s ring to solid against him skin, grounding. “Can’t believe it’s been three weeks since I’ve kissed you…”

“Well, almost three weeks,” Jefferson teases. “You did get a little forgetful that one time.”

“I’m not the only one,” Brock grins. Jefferson has the grace to blush, leaning forward to to hide his face in Brock’s shoulder. 

“Can you blame me?”

“Hardly,” Brock chuckles. The fingers of his free hand thread through Jefferson’s hair, cupping the back of his head to guide him up and rest their foreheads together. It’s a poor stand-in for kissing, but it’s a closeness they need. “I guess we should get started.”

“I guess so,” Jefferson replies. 

“I hope you’re hungry.”

The breath from Jefferson’s laugh glides over Brock’s lip, a terrible, wonderful tease, promising more. “I certainly am.”

The past few days have been spent preparing an assortment of the foods that were recommended to them. Brock ignored the ones with meat in them, for Jefferson’s sake, not that there had been many. Most everything is full of carbs and sugars, energy for a long night, and things that can last. Easy snacks for when they’re too tired or too caught up in each other to want to make anything. They’ve got an assortment of fruits and vegetables and cheeses laid out on front of them now, plus plenty of desserts to satisfy Jefferson’s sweet tooth. Brock had a lot of fun with those, and with getting Jefferson to taste them to make sure they were to his liking. 

Brock goes for a strawberry first, simple and light. The color’s almost as bright as Jefferson’s cheeks as he slowly parts his lips and takes a bite. When juice bleeds onto the omega’s lips, staining them a deeper red, Brock’s quick to brush it away with his thumb. 

“Ok?”

Jefferson nods, his eyes are penetrating as his tongue just barely brushes against Brock’s skin. A thrill goes up Brock spine, and a matching spark lights Jefferson’s eyes. 

A few more bites of fruit, then Brock picks up a slice of bread, prettily arranged by Jefferson with tomato and cheese. Jefferson may not be a great cook, but he can make things look beautiful. 

Jefferson laughs softly around the bread as he struggles a little to tear off a piece, and Brock cups his hand under the omega’s chin to catch the few bits that fall, laughing as he pops them into his mouth. “Harder than you’d expect.”

Jefferson nods, eagerly taking the second bite when Brock offers it to him. His lips brush Brock’s fingers again, and this time Brock’s sure it’s intentional. “But we should do this again.”

“You think so?” Brock chuckles. Jefferson nods, blushing as he licks his lips. 

“And you shouldn’t get to have all the fun.”

Brock grins as Jefferson feeds a slice of apple to him, purposefully letting his lips press against Jefferson’s soft fingers. Jefferson glows with a smile. 

They fall into step, taking turns feeding each other bites and sneaking kisses against each other’s hands. Jefferson seems so soft as he leans against Brock’s side. The world fades out around them each time the omega closes his eyes luxuriously, letting Brock place whatever he pleases on his tongue, and Brock tingles with anticipation when breath caresses his skin just moments before lips follow. Plush, perfect lips that Brock so desperately wants to claim with his own…

All in good time, he tells himself, no matter how forcefully the heat in his stomach may flare when Jefferson blinks shining, grey eyes up at him.

“You’re so beautiful…”

Jefferson’s giggle makes him realize he’s said it out loud. He’s just about cradling Jefferson now, the omega pliant and sweet where he’s tucked in Brock’s arms. “Always a sweetheart,” he murmurs back, tipping his head to nuzzle Brock’s chest.

“I mean it,” Brock sighs. “You are.”

Jefferson mumbles something Brock can’t quite catch, his face still hidden. Brock just chuckles, turning his attention to coaxing Jefferson up with a chocolate-covered cherry, followed by a little cake dripping with honey. Jefferson purrs as he licks sweet smears from his lips and Brock’s fingers, the wet pink of his tongue lighting sparks in Brock’s core.

“Looks like we need to get cleaned up,” Brock murmurs, running his clean fingers through Jefferson’s hair, his other hand still occupying Jefferson’s mouth. Jefferson nods, but doesn’t move, pressing soft kisses against Brock’s hand now. When he looks up, it’s with hazy eyes that have Brock’s stomach twisting. 

He was warned about this, that omegas go through more changes to prepare for taking a bond, so Jefferson will drift in and out the more Brock lavishes him. It’s supposed to be nothing to worry about. And yet he can’t help it…

“You doing ok?”

“Mm-hm,” Jefferson sighs, his hands gripping softly at Brock’s tshirt. “Really ok.”

With that reassurance, Brock chuckles. “Think you can manage to get to the shower while I clean up here?”

Jefferson whines, shaking his head–or maybe just nuzzling closer. “Don’t wanna be away from you.”

Brock nods. He doesn’t really want Jefferson that far away either. “Then I’m gonna have you stay here, and I’m gonna put all this away. That alright?”

Jefferson huffs, whining again, but when Brock slowly pulls away, he settles himself with clinging to a pillow instead, propping his head on the arm of the couch to watch Brock make his way to the kitchen. When he returns, Jefferson stretches up his arms towards him, laughing softly when he’s pulled up.

“You can walk, right?”

“Yeah,” Jefferson smiles, resting his head on Brock’s shoulder. “Just let me lean on you…”

“Course, baby.”

The bathroom’s filled with swirling steam by the time they step into the shower, having caught each other against the wall to trade little touches and sweet nothings. Fingers dancing across palms, lips against temples and the hollows of throats, hair tickling skin. Pulling away is like pulling off a limb…

Jefferson moans under his breath when warm water hits his skin and Brock may just moan as well at the sight of him glistening under the stream. He draws Brock’s in close, until he’s pressed against the wall, a hair’s breadth away from a stolen kiss. Somehow, they manage to stop themselves, settling for Brock’s hands on Jefferson’s skin, getting down to the task at hand.

Jefferson had picked out a rose-scented soap for them to share, flowery and pure. The smell blooms around them as Brock works the pink gel into a lather and begins to rub it over Jefferson’s body. His chest, his arms, the curve of his back…Jefferson gasps softly when Brock glides the washcloth up the inside of his thighs, encouraging them to spread just a little further. When Brock moves his pressure up just a little higher, Jefferson’s nails dig into Brock’s arms with a moan. 

“Gotta get everywhere, huh?” he breathes.

“Are you complaining?” Brock grins. 

“Hell no,” Jefferson giggles, only to dissolve into another moan when Brock’s hand rubs back and forth between his legs once more. Just another tease, another promise.

Brock keeps his hand on the small of Jefferson’s back as he moves lower, over full hips and plump thighs. Jefferson’s hands continue gripping his shoulders, holding himself up. When Brock’s done, he finds the spot above Jefferson’s navel and brushes a kiss there before standing. Jefferson shivers against him.

The omega’s hands are a little shaky as he takes his turn, moving the washcloth in slow circles across Brock’s body. Gentle as ever, even a little hesitant. Like they’re strangers all over again. And yet there’s no mistaking the familiarity as Jefferson hands easily find the sensitive places on Brock’s body. The small of his back, the nape of his neck, the side of his ribcage… Jefferson even moves the cloth over his scarred arm with something Brock can only describe as reverence.

When he drops gracefully to his knees, Brock’s legs nearly give out too.

Again, Jefferson looks so small. Fragile even, his legs tucked neatly under himself, his head just barely tilted. Brock can’t resist reaching down to stroke the pale column of his exposed neck and shoulder, right over where they decided his mark will go. He has to bite his tongue as Jefferson all-too-willingly bares himself more for those touches. And when he’s finished, Brock barely catches a flash of hazy eyes before Jefferson bows his head, resting his cheek against Brock’s thigh. Soft, submissive…

A tremor rolls through the omega’s body, Brock can’t keep his hands away.

“Everything ok, beautiful?” Brock asks, slowly kneeling as well and flipping the shower to the faucet to fill up the bath around them. Jefferson nods, his head finding Brock’s shoulder as he lets out a slow breath, his body as liquid in Brock’s arms as the water filling up around them.

“Yeah,” he whispers, giving a little grin. “More than ok.”

“Good,” Brock nods, leaning back in the tub and bring Jefferson with him, cupping water over Jefferson’s back to keep him warm. “You looked kinda far away, had me worried.” 

“Far away isn’t exactly how I’d describe it,” Jefferson sighs. “More like…I don’t know really. Overwhelmed sounds bad but…that’s the only thing I can think of. Overwhelmed, in a good way.”

Brock laughs softly, turning off the water and sinking deeper with Jefferson. “Just from taking a shower together?”

Jefferson blushes, shaking his head. “I-I think it was more because of kneeling,” he murmurs.

“Kneeling?” Brock repeats. He knows some omegas have a thing for it, but Jefferson’s never mentioned…

And yet he’s nodding now, his blush only growing more intense as he looks down. “I like doing stuff like that with you, I guess,” he murmurs. “I feel really vulnerable, but safe at the same time, because it’s you. I guess I like that feeling.”

“You never told me that before…”

Jefferson looks sheepish as Brock says it, and shrugs. “You said you didn’t like having me kneel, because of bad memories, so I just let it go,” he sighs, and Brock swallows a pang of guilt. 

“I’m sorry,” he mutters. He remembers that conversation, just barely. Leave it to Jefferson to be paying such close attention. “I didn’t mean for you to just ignore what you want…”

“It’s alright,” Jefferson smiles. “I just figured, if I were ever going to mention it, now might be a good time.”

“Right,” Brock manages, letting Jefferson’s sweet smile soothe away his guilt. The omega curls closer, pressing himself against Brock, and Brock’s all too quick to tighten his arms around Jefferson in return. That need to be closer is burning again. Desire coiling until it hurts.

“You know…” Jefferson whispers and Brock’s eyes are torn between soft pink lips and softer grey eyes. “If you wanted…if you trusted that it’s what I want…I’d be more than happy to kneel for you again. All you’d have to do is ask, and I would.”

Brock almost breaks. Almost snaps to pull Jefferson into a devouring kiss, if only to give the heat rushing to fill every inch of him some escape. He almost breaks, but he resists and Jefferson gasps for breath in the same moment he does, eyes going wide.

“Did you feel that?” Brock asks softly.

“I did,” Jefferson nods, giggling breathlessly. “You wanted me.”

“Still do, beautiful,” Brock chuckles. Jefferson nods slowly, his lips curling into that funny, perfect smile, crooked teeth grazing his lip. 

“Then can we go to the bed now?” Jefferson’s voice is so shy as he says it, Brock grins as he brushes curls away from the omega’s face. 

“Sounds good to me.”

Brock gets out first, drying himself off while Jefferson lets the water drain out around him. When Brock holds out a towel for him, Jefferson readily stands and steps into his arms. Rose scent fills the air again as the towel gets gently pressed to smooth, pinked skin. It’s impossible to resist nuzzling closer, and Jefferson whimpers when Brock’s lips find his neck.

“I know, baby,” Brock purrs, turning Jefferson around in his arms. Jefferson leans against him willingly as Brock wraps the towel around his waist. When Brock takes him by the hand, the omega allows himself to be led into their bedroom.

Brock made sure the bed was ready for them beforehand: fresh sheets, turned down and waiting for them. Night’s fallen outside, but moonlight still shines on them both from the window, tinting the room a pale blue.

They reach the edge of the bed, and Brock cups Jefferson’s face tenderly, resting their foreheads together once more. Jefferson’s eyes slip closed as Brock’s hands trail down, and he gasps faintly when his towel is pulled off and tossed to the side. Brock’s isn’t far behind.

Jefferson’s eyes open, blinking at him expectantly.Open and willing and so, so beautiful, swallowing him whole.

Brock bites his lip, tipping his head to brush their noses together. “So that little offer you made,” he murmurs. Jefferson’s eyes flick open wider, setting a flutter in Brock’s chest. He’s really going to ask… “Would you like to kneel for me, beautiful?”

Jefferson sucks in a little breath, but doesn’t hesitate to nod. When Brock takes hold of his hands to balance him, he slowly eases down to his knees. Brock goes down with him, sitting on the edge of the bed. 

“Is that ok?” he asks, his hand running through Jefferson’s hair. The throw-rug they have on the floor is soft under his feet, reassuring him that Jefferson’s knees are just as cushioned. Jefferson nods again, whispering out a soft ‘yes’. All air is dragged from Brock’s lungs when Jefferson’s head rests on his knee.

For a moment, there’s only silence aside from quiet breathing as Brock’s hand pets Jefferson’s hair. Maybe this does feel right, Brock thinks to himself. The fluttering in his chest that won’t go away seems to say so. 

“If this was something you wanted, you could have told me,” he finally sighs. “I know I said it makes me uncomfortable, but with you, there’s nothing I wouldn’t try if it made you happy.”

Jefferson raises his eyes, his cheek still rested against Brock’s knee. “Thank you,” he nods. “I-I’d never do this for anyone else, I want you to know that.”

“I do, baby,” Brock murmurs. Jefferson’s whole body shivers, and the heat in Brock stomach purrs.

“I really do mean it,” Jefferson continues, a little tremor in his voice. “I can’t imagine trusting anyone else like this, or loving anybody else–”

“Hey,” Brock interrupts when the tremor in Jefferson’s voice almost takes over. He tips the omega’s head up, only to be met with shimmery eyes. “Baby, it’s alright.”

“I know,” Jefferson murmurs, pressing his cheek into Brock’s hand. “Sometimes I just can’t believe that this is real, that you really chose me.”

“Well I did,” Brock smiles. “But I know the feeling. I…” He can’t help hesitating, but Jefferson’s wide eyes have a way of loosening his tongue. As ever. “I love you more than anything, beautiful, you know that. You loving me too…I’ve gotta pinch myself sometimes.”

Jefferson laughs softly, ducking his head bashfully. Brock can’t take having him be so far away.

“Come here, beautiful,” he murmurs. Jefferson’s arms stretch up towards him, and Brock’s quick to scoop him up into his arms and lay him out on the bed. Light from the window falls on his body, pale and soft as the moon outside. “Are you still nervous?”

“Maybe a little,” Jefferson breathes.

“Worried about it hurting?”

Jefferson giggles, as if the idea’s silly, shaking his head. “No, I trust you,” he sighs. “Maybe it’s just excitement…”

“Maybe,” Brock nods. “I think I’m a little nervous about hurting you…”

“I know you won’t,” Jefferson says, with a certainty in his voice that settles like an anchor in Brock. “You know how to touch me, you’ve never hurt me before.”

Brock smiles, even though he knows that’s not quite true. If Jefferson’s willing to forget, so is he. “Speaking of touching you,” he grins. “Why don’t you let me do a little more of that?”

Jefferson nods immediately, and his laugh is muffled by the pillow as he allows himself to be turned over. Brock presses a kiss between the omega’s shoulder blades as he reaches for the little bottle in the bedside table. “I have a surprise for you.”

“Oh?” Jefferson grins, glancing back at Brock.

“Close your eyes.”

Jefferson does so, breathing deep when Brock opens the little bottle and pours some of the oil onto his hand. “Smells good.”

“I hope it feels good too,” Brock chuckles, taking in the scent of cinnamon and vanilla. He rubs his slicked hands slowly up Jefferson’s back, eliciting a heady sigh from the omega. Good, Brock grins. His baby should be glowing under him.

He works in circles, starting at Jefferson’s shoulders and working down, pressing into every spot of tension until it melts away under his touch. Jefferson moans as Brock hands press into his lower back, and Brock hums as he leans down to kiss along his shoulder. 

He tastes like a sugar cookie, and his little sounds are just as sweet when Brock’s lips continue to trail across his skin, down the length of his spine to the little dimples Brock loves so much. When Brock blows gently against his skin, Jefferson gasps.

“Oh my god…”

“You like that?” Brock grins, blowing softly again to ignite the warming in the oil.

“Yeah,” Jefferson whispers, his grip tightening on the pillow under him. Brock blows softly up the length of Jefferson’s spine and the omega let’s out a choked sound, somewhere between a moan and a whimper. Brock indulges himself in a quiet growl as he presses them both into the bed, nipping at the back of Jefferson’s neck. 

The omega’s little cry makes him freeze.

“Jefferson?”

When he doesn’t get a response, he immediately pulls back, brushing Jefferson’s hair away from him face. The blissful expression he’s met with sends air rocketing back down his throat.

“I’m ok,” Jefferson breathes, his eyes slowly blinking open. “That just felt better than I expected.”

“When I bit you?” Brock asks, covering Jefferson’s hand with his own. Jefferson nods, smiling softly. 

“Wouldn’t mind you doing it again.”

Brock laughs, pressing his lips to Jefferson’s temple. “I wouldn’t mind doing it again either.”

Jefferson hums sweetly, turning onto his back when Brock’s hands guide him. His eyes are lavender in the soft light now, his lips parted and damp from his breath. 

“I love you,” Jefferson murmurs, his lips curling up again.

“I love you too,” Brock replies. “Love your smile…”

“Oh really?” Jefferson grins, lighting up even more. Brock nods, looking down for a moment.

“I’m pretty sure it’s the first thing I fell for,” he laughs. “That beautiful little smile.” Jefferson whines softly, covering his beaming face with his hands. 

“Come on, don’t hide,” Brock murmurs. Jefferson pouts, but lets his hands find Brock’s hair instead. Brock kisses the delicate inside of his wrist, sighing. “You know, back when we first decided to do this…I told myself I’d do whatever it took to keep you smiling, because I loved seeing it so much.”

“Did you really?”

“Yeah,” Brock nods. “I haven’t always been good at it–”

“Brock…”

“–but I do try.”

“I know you do,” Jefferson sighs. He brings Brock in closer, their lips just barely hovering together. “You do make me happy, every day you make me happy. I need you to believe that.”

“I do,” Brock nods. “It took me a long time, but I do now.”

Jefferson nods as well, letting out a giggle that’s stifled by a hitch in his breath. “Good,” he whispers. “And I do know how hard you try. I love you for it.”

Brock chuckles softly leans in, brushing his lips against Jefferson’s forehead, then his cheeks, then takes a moment to just barely hover over his mouth. “I think all that trying makes me a better person, you know? I’m better because of you, because I wanna make you happy.”

Jefferson’s smile is shaky, as is the breath he lets out. His fingers twist in Brock’s hair, sending shivers through the alpha as he trails his mouth along Jefferson’s jaw. “We’re both better for having met each other, I think,” Jefferson murmurs, his lips parting for a moan when Brock presses against him. Warmth floods Brock’s body, centering in the pit of his stomach.

“Good thing I never gave in to how scared I was of what you were doing to me,” he sighs. Jefferson manages a little laugh.

“I was scared too,” he sighs. “I fell for you so fast, it scared the hell out of me. I’d never felt anything so intense.”

Brock nods, his arms wrapping around Jefferson’s body. “How the hell did we even get here?” he laughs.

“I have no idea,” Jefferson giggles. “But thank god we did.”

Brock grins, and when he shifts to press his lips against Jefferson’s forehead again, the friction between their legs has them both gasping, Jefferson’s blown-dark eyes fixing on Brock’s. It’s been too long… 

“I’ll second that,” Brock chuckles. Jefferson’s lips part as he smiles, just briefly, before going lax as Brock leans closer. He only allows the faintest touch, the lightest breathe shared between them and the moment Jefferson tries to lean up, Brock’s pulling back with a smirk.

“I’m not done adoring you yet, beautiful,” he purrs, sitting up. Jefferson rolls his eyes, but his surliness doesn’t last long once Brock’s hands are on him again. His eyes flutter shut as Brock’s fingers glide down his chest, some of the leftover sweet oil still easing his way. When Brock blows softly against his nipple, Jefferson arches up off the bed with a gasp that turns to a whine as Brock’s lips continue in a trail of warm, open-mouthed kisses along his belly, with just a few soft nips scattered across the skin. The omega’s thighs spread for him as readily as ever, his hips pushing up when the tip of Brock’s tongue teases his length with little flicks. 

Jefferson’s scent is intoxicating now, its richness drowning out the saccharinity of the oil. Brock moves his hands gently along Jefferson’s thighs, pushing them up and apart so his tongue can find Jefferson’s slick entrance. Jefferson thready moans fill the room, his heels pressing into Brock back and his hands tangling in Brock’s hair. Brock groans along with him, pressing his tongue inside the omega’s willing body.

“Brock…!” Jefferson whimpers, his voice pleading. Brock smirks. He knows that tone, Jefferson’s close already. He’s got to be careful not to push him over the edge too soon. Maybe it’s selfish, but he wants Jefferson coming on his knot. 

He works his tongue in and out of the omega slowly, until Jefferson’s trembling with the tease, his hands tangled in Brock hair, thighs squeezing around Brock’s head. 

Brock has to push harder than usual to get them off.

He purrs as he moves back up Jefferson’s body with more little kisses and Jefferson preens and sighs with each one. Brock gets no verbal response, and once he’s level with Jefferson’s face, he realizes why. Jefferson’s eyes are hazy once again, and when he reaches up, it’s with fluttery hands that Brock’s quick to kiss. “Breathe, beautiful.”

Jefferson draws in a weak breath, his eyes finding focus as they search Brock’s face. “I want you,” he murmurs. “Please, I want you so badly.”

“I know,” Brock whispers. And god he does. He can feel every tremor in Jefferson’s body reflected in his own, and he can see Jefferson’s pulse thrumming in his neck, right in time with his own. When he presses his lips to that delicate skin, they both moan.

Brock’s lips stay fixed on that spot, sucking softly and drinking in Jefferson’s whimpers as he wraps the omega’s legs around his waist. Jefferson’s hands are in his hair again, pulling gently as he nips Brock’s ear. Their noses bump together when Brock raises his head. Lavender-blue eyes gaze back at him, and a smile curls on pink lips.

Those lips do him in, though whether he leans in or Jefferson presses up, he can’t say. But when their lips finally, finally do come together, the rest of the world is gone in an instant, lost in favor of Jefferson’s silvery moans and eager tongue. Brock’s own tongue dives into that waiting mouth as soon as Jefferson parts his lips in offering, his hands sliding down to take hold of Jefferson’s hips and guide them up. Jefferson whimpers as soon as he feels the head of Brock’s cock pressing against his entrance, breaking the kiss for barely a moment to nod before pulling Brock back in. Brock goes all too willingly, nipping at Jefferson’s lip as he begins to press into the wet warmth of the omega’s body.

He’s not even fully inside before he has to stop, though Jefferson protests with his nails on Brock’s shoulder.

“Christ, baby,” Brock groans, pressing his forehead against Jefferson’s. Jefferson nods and kisses the bridge of Brock’s nose. 

“Can I be in your lap?” he asks softly. “Want you to hold me…”

Brock flashes a grin, locking his arms around Jefferson’s waist and chuckling when Jefferson’s legs tighten around him as well. He pulls Jefferson up, groaning when the omega presses down against his cock. Jefferson moans right along with him, letting his head rest on Brock’s shoulder.

Brock’s hands stay fixed to the small of Jefferson’s back as their hips rock together, their paces matched effortlessly. Brock lets his eyes fall closed, his lips finding Jefferson’s bared neck once again. Jefferson whimpers, his shoulder dropping, opening himself up more. Presenting.

Brock lets his teeth graze Jefferson’s skin, and the omega whines. A little nip earns him a cry and a tremor rolling through Jefferson that Brock feels in the core of his own body.

“Brock…” Jefferson pleads. Brock chuckles weakly, brushing back Jefferson’s hair. Hazy, begging eyes. Soft, parted lips. And skin flushed pink all the way down his body, especially his neck where Brock’s been nipping. “Brock, please…”

“Please, what?” Brock asks. He stops their slow movements, leaning to press his lips gently against Jefferson’s forehead.

“Mark me,” Jefferson breathes. “Make me yours.”

Glowing spots swim in front of Brock’s eyes, and he swears he’s going to faint. The only thing he hears is his own faint growl mixed with Jefferson’s mewl, both of which are stifled when he pulls Jefferson into a deep, penetrating kiss.

“All mine,” Brock purrs, and Jefferson gives a little giggle. “My beautiful.”

“My sweetheart,” Jefferson replies.

Brock laughs softly, pressing Jefferson’s body against his own. He’s always been Jefferson’s, just one more step to make it final. When Jefferson’s smile lights up his flushed face again, Brock leans in for one more kiss. “I love you,” he murmurs. “I swear I’ll always love you.”

“I love you too,” Jefferson smiles. “And I’ll be yours forever, I promise.”

Brock nods, tucking Jefferson’s hair gently behind his ear. “Put your head down, baby.”

Jefferson obeys immediately, his willingness sending a thrill through Brock the moment the omega’s head finds his shoulder. Brock’s lips press to Jefferson’s hair, his temple, his cheek as Brock starts rocking into Jefferson’s body again. Jefferson moans, low and sweet, his nails dragging down Brock’s back. The need to bond is gnawing at him again, an oh-so-familiar burn in his stomach and itch in his jaw.

Brock presses his mouth to the junction where Jefferson’s shoulder meets his neck. A high moan is his reward, closely followed by a whimper when he bares his teeth against delicate skin. Brock’s hips thrust forward roughly this time, hard enough to make Jefferson gasp.

“Please!” he begs. “Please, please–”

A growl rips from Brock’s throat, drawing a mewl from Jefferson’s as the omega’s body goes pliant in an instant, his scent flaring and flooding Brock’s senses. Sweet, warm…

And finally raw. Raw blood on Brock’s tongue as he sinks his teeth into Jefferson’s neck. The air shatters with the omega’s cry, everything except for the pounding of their hearts in Brock’s ears screeching to a halt. His jaw clamps down harder and Jefferson cries again, ecstatic, his body arching against Brock’s, nails dragging across his skin. 

Teeth on Brock’s own skin. Light erupting from where he’s bitten, Jefferson’s teeth sunken into his shoulder. He gasps, clutching Jefferson against his body as the shattered, ignited air burns in his lungs. Their lungs. Together they’re burning, coming undone. A year’s worth of denial, released in an instant.

They’re moving together once more, their bodies chasing a release their minds couldn’t care less about. All that matters is holding on, all that matters is letting the other in…

The earth shudders beneath them once more as release washes over them, tying them together. Their moans echo, mirrors refracting, but still they don’t pull away, even when they hit the bed, their bodies giving out from under them.

He can feel him, Jefferson’s mind against his own, as close as their bodies. Closer, even, a familiar, soft pastel bleeding into the depths of Brock’s own mind as surely as Jefferson’s blood is on his tongue. His own body sings in all the places where his hands caress Jefferson’s, his neck and his core throbbing with a shared ecstasy. They tremble in each other’s arms, and yet their minds are quiet, wind rolling through clouds, flowers floating on water. Quiet, peaceful, perfect.

Brock opens his eyes, his jaw relaxing as he allows himself to lick softly at Jefferson’s mark. Heat rolls through him when a warm tongue presses against his own neck, matching his pattern of little licks, cleaning the edges of the fresh mark sunk deep into soft skin. 

They’ll have to clean them better later on, but not now. Now it’s too important to press kisses up along his omega’s, his Jefferson’s neck and hear breathy sounds escape against his skin. The tip of his nose nuzzles the softness of Jefferson’s cheek, and, out of nowhere, a chill, something like nervousness, twinges. Not his own. Jefferson’s nervousness. Jefferson who’s still licking and kissing at Brock’s fresh wound…

He wasn’t supposed to bite Brock in return. And now he’s nervous.

Brock sighs softly against Jefferson’s cheek, nuzzling him again before nudging the omega’s head up. Their lips come together, and peace floods through them both again. His and Jefferson’s. 

When they open their eyes, a bright thrill rushes through them, pulling a little laugh out of them both. Jefferson’s eyes glow at him, and his nose scrunches up sweetly when Brock brushes a kiss against it. Their hands clasp, warmth rushing up from the contact, and they smile again. 

_“Mine.”_

Brock hears the word ring as clear as if one of them had said it out loud. Which one of them it came from, he can’t be sure, but it sends flames rushing down his spine and a gasp pulsing from Jefferson’s throat.

_“Yours.”_

Brock pushes Jefferson onto his back, their breath picking up, hot and damp against each other’s lips as Brock pins Jefferson’s wrists to the bed. Jefferson’s moan has Brock growling. 

_Mine. Yours._

It hits them like heat, like rut, and yet a thousand times more intense than either could ever be. They fall into each other and the collision’s too bright, too hot, hard, rough, but they’re too lost in each other to care. Brock’s knot is still inside Jefferson, and the pressure as he thrusts forward is flashfire through them both. Jefferson’s nails tear at the sheets and Brock’s skin, and Brock’s teeth are on the omega again in seconds. His neck, his chest, anywhere he can reach, and when Jefferson bites damn near through his lip the only thing he can do is groan. 

The world’s faded again because Jefferson’s on top of him, underneath him, pinned on his back or on all fours, always pushing to him, crying and moaning for more. 

Night turns to dawn, dawn to day, day to dusk, and dusk to night once again. Pillows are torn from their cases and scattered around the room, sheets are ripped, and the two of them even fall off the bed eventually, tangled in blankets and each other. They don’t care, any surface is good enough when they’ve got each other to cling to. 

Even when the carpet burns their backs and hard wood makes bruises on their knees, nothing stops their relentless pull and press for more, more, more…

Nothing could ever matter as much as this. 

Mine. Yours. Forever.


	16. Chapter 16

The sun is rising outside by the time Brock comes back to himself, letting out a heavy breath. The first thing he feels is warmth. Warmth from Jefferson beneath him, and warmth on his back from the pool of sunlight they’ve landed in. A little smile wanders onto his face as he burrows into the curls floating against his face, breathing in the deep, sweet scent of his mate.

His mate. The thought has him purring, and even Jefferson gives a sleepy moan as he wriggles underneath Brock’s weight. 

Brock rolls off of him, pulling them both onto their sides, his eyes finally blinking open to find Jefferson’s bondmark. The skin’s still bright and raw from Brock’s teeth repeatedly taking hold of it, and a throbbing in Brock’s neck tells him his own mark must look much the same.

Brock can’t help but laugh softly. He’s never seen a marked alpha before, but he’s not complaining. He’ll proud wear the mark of Jefferson’s teeth on his neck. 

His chuckle turns into a contented hum as he nuzzles Jefferson’s shoulder, pressing his lips to the reddened skin. But Jefferson’s little whimper has Brock’s giddiness quickly turning to a nagging guilt, his arms tightening around his mate’s body. 

Jefferson needs to be cleaned up, fed, given water…pampered. Brock’s kisses turn softer, apologetic, as he scatters them across Jefferson’s back. The omega whines softly, reaching for Brock’s hand. His ring presses into Brock’s skin, a promise finally fulfilled.

“It’s ok,” Jefferson murmurs. “I’m ok.” Brock nods, nosing into Jefferson’s curls, damp with sweat. Brock own hair is falling in his eyes too, but trying to toss it back is futile. “Do you know how long we were under?”

“No idea,” Brock sighs. He wants to know too, but that would mean moving to find his phone, and he’s not quite ready to leave the softness of Jefferson’s body just yet. The omega makes no protest. 

“So we’re never leaving this apartment again, right?” 

Brock barks a laugh, pressing a kiss against Jefferson’s neck. “Not for the next few days at least,” he murmurs, though it pains him to say it. He can’t imagine moving from Jefferson’s side ever again, at this point. Jefferson sighs sweetly, squirming against Brock again, and Brock smiles as he makes room for the omega to roll onto his back.

Jefferson’s face is still pink, and his smile is blinding as he looks up at Brock. They come together for a soft kiss without a moment’s hesitation, and brightness sparks between them. The bond is still fresh, making them keenly aware of every touch. Even when the kiss ends, they can’t quite bring themselves to pull away. Brock’s not sure he even wants to blink, lest he miss a moment of fair, blue eyes. 

“Hey beautiful,” he murmurs. Jefferson smiles, bringing their clasped hands up to press a kiss to Brock’s skin, his voice breathy—maybe even a little breathless—when he replies.

“Hi, sweetheart.” 

Brock grins, nuzzling into Jefferson’s neck again, his lips finding the fresh bondmark. “Does it hurt?” he asks when Jefferson mewls softly. 

“Not when you’re kissing it,” Jefferson murmurs. Brock smirks, pressing one more kiss that has Jefferson whimpering.

“Fuck, don’t tempt me,” Brock murmurs. Jefferson just giggles, nipping lightly at Brock’s neck until the alpha’s groaning. 

“Why not?” he simpers.

“Because we need to be patched up a little, I think,” he murmurs. “We do have bitemarks in our shoulders.”

“Indeed we do,” Jefferson sighs, rolling his shoulders experimentally, wincing with a spark of soreness Brock feels. “Maybe you’re right.” 

Brock steals one more kiss before rolling off Jefferson and his groaning this time is far from pleasant as his body lights up with even more aches. 

“Guess that’s what sleeping on the floor gets us,” Jefferson mumbles. 

“Not to mention fucking on the floor,” Brock laughs, pushing himself up to grab his phone. “For thirty-six hours, no less…”

“Really?”

Brock just tips his phone towards Jefferson when the omega sits up as well and rests his chin on Brock’s shoulder. “We were warned about going under.”

“Well yeah,” Jefferson giggles. “But I didn’t think…”

Brock nods, chuckling softly. “Explains why I’m so hungry though.”

“No kidding,” Jefferson mutters. Brock tips his head to kiss Jefferson’s cheek, chuckling when both their stomachs growl. 

“So are we getting food first, or cleaning up first?”

“Food,” Jefferson grins. “No question.”

Brock’s not about to argue, but it’s still a chore to pull away from Jefferson long enough to find a pair of sweatpants to pull on. When he turns back around, it’s to see Jefferson wrapped up in his jacket, the black fabric hanging off one shoulder to expose the omega’s bondmark. 

“Jesus christ…”

Jefferson laughs, holding his arms out and squealing when Brock scoops him up into a kiss. 

“You know I love you in this thing, right?” Brock murmurs. 

“I do,” Jefferson nods, grinning as he runs his hands over Brock’s shoulders. “Almost as much as I love you shirtless.”

“Is that so?” Brock smirks, gathering Jefferson up into his arms again when the omega nods. Jefferson giggles again, clinging to Brock as he’s carried into the kitchen and set on the counter. 

All the food they prepared before is still ready for them, and though tupperware spread out on the counter isn’t nearly as romantic, sharing a meal by hand hasn’t lost any charm. Their lips still kiss each other’s fingers with each bite, and they wastes no time cleaning up any drips and crumbs with their tongues, until they’re both flushed and laughing.

Every ache in Brock’s body fades away as he licks a drip of honey from Jefferson’s chest and the omega willingly starts to lean back against the counter, his legs spreading so Brock can press between them. The need to seal the bond is still very much present, humming as Brock’s lips work across Jefferson’s body, up to his neck.

“Offering me something, baby?” he grins.

“I don’t know,” Jefferson sighs, humor thick in his voice. “Maybe you should get a little closer and find out.”

Brock chuckles, his lips pressed just under Jefferson’s ear. “Not sure how much closer I can get,” he says, despite how his hands grip Jefferson’s hips, pulling him further towards the edge of the counter.

“I can think of a few ways,” Jefferson giggles, wiggling down further so he can grip the waistband of Brock’s pants. Brock hums, kissing along Jefferson’s cheek until he finds soft lips.

“But we still have to shower,” he murmurs. He’s greeted with an eyeroll that has him laughing.

“Well you know…” Jefferson huffs, back to grinning soon enough. “There is that saying: two birds, one stone.”

“True enough,” Brock smiles. Jefferson giggles through one more kiss, then Brock feels him push away. He leans up just in time to see Jefferson slide himself back along the counter, sliding off the other side with a gleeful squeal. Brock can’t help but laugh as Jefferson smirks. “Running away from me now?”

Jefferson shrugs, bracing himself against the counter, ready to push off and dart away. “That depends,” he smirks. “Are you gonna come get me if I do?”

“You know I will,” Brock replies. Another giggle bubbles out of Jefferson as the omega chews his lip, holding Brock’s gaze. A tease and an invitation. 

Jefferson takes off with a shriek and Brock’s chasing after him in a split second, laughing as he dodges the counter, vaults the couch, and careens around doorways. His arms catch Jefferson’s waist just before the omega makes it into the bathroom, another shriek that quickly turns to peals of laughter erupting from Jefferson. Brock holds tight, and the only struggling Jefferson does is in his hold to turn himself around and catch Brock in a kiss before his back hits the wall. 

“I love you,” Jefferson sighs. Brock grins against soft lips, running his fingers through tangled curls. The omega’s skin still has the scent of sweat and sex, honeyed, like it is after he’s been in heat. Brock wants to lick the scent from every inch of him. 

“Love you too,” he murmurs. “My mate.”

Heat rushes to the surface of their skin, making pink glow all the way down Jefferson’s chest. Belonging to each other…it’s the most powerful aphrodisiac they’ve ever felt.

******

They may only be allowed a couple more days to lose themselves in each other, but they make the most of every second, and even after all this time, there are still new places on their bodies to discover with kisses. No hiding secret pleasures anymore; they can feel it now when they find a spot on the other’s skin that elicits more of a flutter or shiver. 

“Never realized how much you like this,” Brock murmurs, his lips pressing up Jefferson’s thigh. He’d always been so focused on the omega’s belly or the soft insides of his thighs. He’d never noticed he was one hundred and eighty degrees from when he needed to be.

Jefferson smiles, sucking in a breath when Brock’s kisses carry up his hip to end in a little bite in the dip of his waist. 

“Well you never told me how much you like it when I kiss your back,” he replies, trailing his fingertips between Brock’s shoulder blades for emphasis. Brock doesn’t bother fighting a shudder, especially as memories of waking up with Jefferson kissing along his spine flicker through his mind. Not that they’ve been sleeping much when there’s so much to enjoy while they’re awake. 

“Well I have to save some surprises for you to figure out yourself,” he grins. He gets pushed onto his back for his trouble, drowning in Jefferson’s sweetness as the omega straddles him and arches closer.

A couple days doesn’t seem like nearly enough.

******

When the day finally comes that they do have to go back to their real lives, Brock’s not sure they’ll be able to do it. They linger in bed, and in the shower together, and at the table once they’ve had breakfast, unwilling to move more than a few feet away from each other with the threat of having to spend a day apart looming over them.

“I wish we had more time to just be together,” Jefferson sighs, running his thumb lightly over the back of Brock’s hand.

“I know,” Brock sighs, cocking a little grin. “One of these days we’ll go on a vacation, have some time together without anything else to worry about.”

“I’d love that,” Jefferson smiles. “I’ve never been on any big trip.”

“Well we’ll make it happen, one day,” Brock says, kissing Jefferson’s hand softly, so the omega blushes. “I promise.”

Jefferson nods, and the pink in his cheeks shows no signs of fading as Brock leans forward for a kiss. “Will you walk with me to work?” Jefferson asks softly. “I don’t want to be away from you just yet.”

Of course Brock can’t say anything but yes.

The walk is warm and torturously short, their arms wrapped around each other the whole way. By the time they reach the little shop, Brock’s doubting their will to let each other go all over again. After a nod from Belle, Jefferson pulls them into a corner, out of the way, bringing their lips together with a vicelike grip on Brock’s collar.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” he murmurs.

“I know how you feel,” Brock sighs. “I’m gonna be climbing the walls back at home.”

“I know, that’s what I hate about it,” Jefferson groans, his arms sliding around Brock’s neck. “And I’ll be feeling it here…”

Brock nods, letting his eyes close as he hugs Jefferson tighter. “It’s just until tonight, you know.” 

“Tonight at midnight when you finally get home,” Jefferson whines. Brock manages a weak chuckle, but it’d be a hell of a lot funnier if there weren’t a genuinely painful tightness in his chest at the thought of being away from Jefferson for that long. He sighs again, his lips finding the bandage over Jefferson’s still-healing bondmark, relishing the burn in his own shoulder as Jefferson whimpers.

Out of the corner of his eye, he catches sight of Belle and her mate. The tall, older man says…something, which earns him a clearly affectionate shove. 

“Leave them be,” Belle says. “You remember how we were that soon after bonding.”

Jefferson’s embarrassed giggle draws Brock’s attention back, and he places his kiss on the omega’s forehead this time.

“Make sure you change the bandage once you get home,” Brock murmurs.

“I know,” Jefferson smiles as he leans back, cupping Brock’s face. “And you do the same before you leave for work.”

“Yes, sir,” Brock nods, smirking when Jefferson rolls his eyes. “Ti amo tanto.”

Jefferson’s back to blushing in an instant, his fingers tangling in Brock’s hair as he pulls him in for another kiss. “At least play fair,” he sighs. “You know what that does to me.”

“I do,” Brock grins. Blue-grey eyes sparkle at him as crooked teeth fix on a pink lip, and instantly Brock can hear his heartbeat in his ears. This is his mate. His beautiful, perfect mate…

He’s so goddamn lucky.

“If you don’t leave now I’ll never let you get out of here,” Jefferson whispers. Brock shakes himself, laughing weakly as his hands squeeze Jefferson’s waist momentarily before pulling back.

“Ok,” he sighs. “Ok.” He lays a quick kiss on the omega’s lips, or, at least, he intends it as a quick kiss. Jefferson’s hands gripping at his shirt and warm mouth opening for him have a way of enticing him to linger. When he finally pulls away, it’s with a deep sigh.

“See you tonight,” he murmurs.

“See you tonight,” Jefferson mirrors. “I love you.”

“Love you too,” Brock nods. Jefferson’s hands drift down to his as he steps away, and their fingers trail out of each other’s grasp. A last touch they don’t want to give up, and when they finally have to, it’s with a nagging heaviness.

Brock doesn’t know how he makes it out the door, but he does, and when he glances back, he sees Belle resting an understanding hand on Jefferson’s arm, both omegas smiling fondly at each other. He supposes he can rest a little easier knowing Jefferson’s in good hands.

Just as he promised, he’s left climbing walls in their apartment once everything’s cleaned. Work doesn’t provide much diversion. Jack and Natasha give him a wide berth, though their apologetic, knowing gazes don’t go unnoticed. Everything else is a haze, especially when a burning in his shoulder tells him Jefferson must be touching his own mark. 

When his shift’s over, he nearly runs out of the building, and, true to form, breaks a handful of traffic laws to get back home to Jefferson.

The omega’s in his arms before he’s even through the door, and getting to the bed is a long shot he’s not surprised they miss.

******

The days turn to weeks, and it does get easier. Maybe that’s just because they become accustomed to the ache of being apart, but they make up for it in every moment they can. Jefferson even takes to waking them early, and Brock’s more than happy to indulge him.

Which is what makes it all the more odd when he wakes up one morning with Jefferson not by his side. The bed’s still warm, which is comforting. Jefferson hasn’t been gone long.

He sits up, running a hand through his hair, and sighing when he sees the bathroom light and hears a weak retching sound, followed by running water.

“You ok, baby?” he calls as he walks closer. The only answer he gets is a groan, and he sighs again when he sees Jefferson leaning over the sink. The omega glances up with a bitter half-smile before his face screws up, clearly fighting another wave of gagging. Brock winces in sympathy, resting his hand on Jefferson’s lower back and rubbing gently. “Something you ate?”

“I don’t know,” Jefferson sighs, letting out another heavy breath before splashing water on his face. Brock passes him a towel when the omega straightens up, keeping his hand on the omega’s lower back as he watches him dry his face. “I’ve felt kinda off the past couple of days, but it would come and go. Nothing like this.”

“Some kind of stomach bug?” Brock offers. Jefferson shrugs, and Brock doesn’t bother pressing him when the omega nuzzles into his chest.

“You smell so good,” he murmurs.

Brock chuckles, pressing a kiss to the top of Jefferson’s head. “So do you.”

Jefferson groans, shaking his head. “No, I’m gross right now…”

“I don’t think so.” There’s no tang of sickness on Jefferson’s skin, just sweet warmth. “It’s kinda funny actually…”

“What is?”

“You do sort of smell different,” he smiles. “Not just right now, though. I think ever since we bonded it’s been different.”

When Jefferson raises his head, it’s with a little frown. “Different how?”

Brock shrugs. “I don’t know. Kinda more…flowery, I guess?” That’s the best way he can think to describe it. “You know those little white flowers on the vines in that park garden we went to?”

“You mean jasmine?” 

“Sure,” Brock nods, bringing a little smile to Jefferson’s face. “Like that, really flowery and sweet.”

Jefferson nods, but his smile turns odd after a moment. Like he’s trying to keep it in place and it’s not quite working. Instantly, Brock’s stumbling over his words.

“I-it’s not bad,” he says quickly. “I love your scent, even though it’s different now. Maybe it’s just a bonding thing—”

“Brock, it’s alright,” Jefferson interrupts, mercifully, pressing a kiss to Brock’s cheek. Brock nods, but there’s a discomfort still settled in his chest that he knows is coming from Jefferson. “I’m still not feeling that great. I think I’m gonna shower.”

“Ok, beautiful,” Brock nods, brushing a kiss against Jefferson’s forehead. “I’ll make you something to eat.”

“Don’t know if I’ll be able to keep it down,” Jefferson sighs.

“Will you try for me?” Brock smiles. Jefferson rolls his eyes, but does nod, heading towards the shower as Brock goes for the kitchen. 

Something light, he decides not wanting to upset Jefferson’s stomach more. Fruits and some toast, along with tea as always, set out on the table ready for Jefferson when the omega wanders out, now with lavender soap scenting his skin.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” Jefferson murmurs, smiling when he sees what Brock’s laid out for him, going right for the toast as he sits down. Brock takes the seat next to him, sipping on coffee.

“Feeling any better?”

“Kind of,” Jefferson shrugs, shaking his head. “Not really…”

“M’sorry…” Brock sighs. He can see it in Jefferson’s eyes, that look that say he just wants to crawl back under blankets and sleep the day away. 

Jefferson just shrugs, popping a bite of fruit in his mouth. “It’s not your fault,” he smiles, picking up his cup of tea and breathing in the scent before taking a sip. Instantly, his face screws up, and for a second Brock’s worried he’s going to be sick again.

“You ok?”

Jefferson shakes his head, his throat working hard to force himself to swallow. “So sweet…” he mutters, shivering. Brock frowns. He didn’t make it any differently than he usually does…

“Never thought I’d see the day when something was too sweet for you.”

Jefferson laughs weakly, shaking his head again. “Probably just ‘cause of my stomach. Nothing personal.”

Brock gives a little smile, but it’s hard when Jefferson’s clearly unhappy. “You sure about going to work?”

“Might as well,” Jefferson sighs. “I’m up anyway.”

“I guess,” Brock nods. “At least let me drive you, and call me if you need to come home.”

“Thank you,” Jefferson nods, and a smile comes to his face again. “You’re so cute when you worry about me.” Brock can’t do anything but blush, which only makes Jefferson smile more. 

The rest of their breakfast is quiet as Jefferson manages a few more bites, and a fresh, unsweetened cup of tea. Brock’s careful as he drives, not wanting motion sickness to make Jefferson feel worse.

Watching a sleepy-eyed Jefferson wander into the shop…it’s like that first day apart all over again.

******

“What’s up with you tonight?”

“Hm?” Brock glances up to find Jack staring at him. The other alpha just shakes his head.

“I said, what’s up with you tonight?” he repeats. “You look out of it.”

“Oh…” Brock sighs. “Sorry, I’ve been out of it all day.”

“Thinking about your boy, huh?”

Brock can’t help but laugh. “Is it that obvious?”

“It’s a pretty specific look,” Jack shrugs, flashing a grin too. “So what’s up? I thought you two were just starting to come back down to earth.”

“We are,” Brock says. It’s mostly true, at least. “But he was feeling sick this morning, I’m just worried about him.”

“What kinda sick?”

“Nauseous,” Brock shrugs. “Spent a good bit of the morning in the bathroom and didn’t want anything sweet…” 

Jack nods slowly, pursing his lips in thought for a moment. Brock’s about to ask what’s up with him, before Jack finally shrugs. “He’s probably fine,” he mutters. “Shit happens.”

Brock snorts. “Thanks, I know,” he drawls, shoving Jack’s arm. “I’m just kinda worried it’s worse than he’s letting on, ‘cause he’s been putting a knot in my stomach all day.” Jack’s silent for a moment too long, and when Brock glances over, the guy’s sporting a smirk he doesn’t quite trust. “What?”

“Nothing,” Jack shrugs, still smirking. Brock just keeps watching him, until he finally relents with a laugh. “It’s just…you mean he’s putting a knot in your stomach, like, you’re feeling what he’s feeling?”

Brock just nods, knowing exactly what’s coming even before Jack dissolves into his loud, harsh laughter. “C’mon man…” 

“You c’mon,” Jack mutters. “That’s fuckin’ weird, and you know it.”

“Shut up,” Brock smiles, rolling his eyes when Jack just laughs again. “It feels a lot less weird once you’re experiencing it.”

“Whatever you say,” Jack smirks. “Just remember you a few months ago, all freaked out about sharing your head with someone.”

Brock nods, shrugging. “A lot can happen in a few months, I guess.”

“No kidding.”

Brock smiles, but another pang in his stomach has him chewing the inside of his cheek. Something’s wrong…

“Christ, just go call him.”

Brock about to protest, but Jack pushes at his shoulder. “I mean it, I’ll cover for you. Go call him, have Nat sneak you a drink, something…”

Brock sighs, and after another push he gives up and heads inside, pulling out his phone, and sending off a text to Jefferson. [you alright?]

No immediate response, and though he’s not really surprised, he can’t help being nervous. He makes his way to the bar, and Natasha spots him immediately.

“What’s wrong?”

“Am I that transparent?” he groans, leaning against the bar.

“Kinda,” Natasha grins. “So what is it?”

Brock shakes his head. “Jefferson’s not feeling well, and I’m worried.”

Natasha nods. “Nothing serious, right?”

Brock shrugs. “I don’t know…” he sighs, his fingers drumming along the side of his phone. “Do you and Maria ever share thoughts or feelings, now that you’re bonded?”

He glances up just in time see Nat cock an eyebrow, and for a moment, he’s left concerned that he’s pried a little too much. But soon enough, she sighs and nods.

“It usually takes us being physically close,” she shrugs. “But there is a mental connection, more for her than for me.” A smile crosses her face, and her fingers catch the locket around her neck, the chain of the necklace pressing through the center of her bondmark. “Why do you ask?”

“Just curious,” Brock shrugs. 

“Bet you and Jefferson have a strong connection.”

Brock nods slowly and the knot in his stomach twists. “Too strong, sometimes.”

“Feeling something from him now?”

“Oh yeah,” Brock sighs. “Have been all day and it’s just…” He trails off when his phone buzzes, lighting up with Jefferson’s name. “Sorry,” he mumbles to Nat, who just nods as he opens the message.

[Yeah, I’m ok]

Brock wants to breathe a sigh of relief, but he can’t quite manage it. And when a second message comes in, his stomach drops.

[When are you gonna be home?] Jefferson knows what time his shift ends. He’s known for months. 

Brock sighs, but there’s no relief. “Shit.”

“What is it?”

“It’s serious enough that he wants me to be home,” Brock murmurs, setting his phone down so Nat can see the text. “He didn’t say it, but…”

“But he wouldn’t say it outright,” Natasha nods. “And you’re going to be a mess for the rest of the night if you don’t go.”

Brock shakes his head, unable to argue. “Guess I’ve got some sweet-talking to do.”

“At least sweet talk is one of your strengths,” Natasha grins, waving him off. “Go take care of your mate.” Brock shoots a little smile back at her.

Fortunately enough for him, the manager on that night is a bonded alpha as well, who’s more than understanding about his situation. As soon as he gets the ok, he tells Jefferson he’s coming home.

The tightness in his stomach only gets worse the closer he gets to their apartment, and when he walks in, he’s disappointed to not be greeted by Jefferson in his arms. 

His eyes find the omega across the main room, seated in one of the chairs framing the couch. He looks up at Brock with a face like he could burst into tears at any moment.

Brock’s kneeling in front of him in seconds, reaching for Jefferson’s hands and grasping tight. Jefferson’s whole body is shaking, his breath coming in little gasps, and Brock can see his pulse racing in his neck. There’s a book forgotten on the table near him, a failed attempt at passing time. 

“Hey, it’s alright,” he hushes, kissing Jefferson’s hands and stroking up the omega’s arms. “Breathe, baby.”

Jefferson draws in a long breath, but doesn’t stop trembling. He opens his mouth, but no sound comes out. Brock shushes him again, putting his arms around Jefferson’s waist and pulling him close.

“Just breathe,” he murmurs. “Don’t want you hyperventilating.”

Jefferson nods against his shoulder, and Brock’s lips find his bondmark, healed now, but still pink, not quite a flat scar yet. He presses soft kisses, and Jefferson shivers, some tension draining from his back. 

“It’s alright,” he whispers again, despite how anxiety churns in his own stomach. He’s never seen Jefferson freak out like this before. “Whatever it is, it’s gonna be ok.”

Jefferson lets out a weak little sound that might be an attempt at a laugh, but he says nothing, his hands tightening on Brock’s shirt. Brock shuts his eyes, keeping his lips pressed to Jefferson’s bondmark, breathing deep and slow. His own fear probably isn’t helping Jefferson at all. The last thing he needs to be doing is making things worse.

“I love you, so much,” he murmurs, fumbling for anything to say that will make his Jefferson stop shaking. “No matter what, you know that, right?”

“I do,” Jefferson whispers. His forehead presses against Brock’s shoulder, and Brock kisses his cheek gently before cupping his face and lifting it up. There’s redness around Jefferson’s eyes, but no wetness, at least. Small victories.

“Then you know you can tell me anything, ok?” he smiles. Jefferson nods, but he’s chewing his lip. “What is it, baby, what’s wrong?”

Jefferson’s hands are shaking again, and Brock doesn’t hesitate to grasp them, stroking the omega’s soft skin. Jefferson’s eyes raise to his after a moment, his gaze penetrating as he struggles for words. “I-I…” 

Brock squeezes Jefferson’s hands which the omega trails off, nodding encouragingly, but he doesn’t dare say anything. Can’t risk shattering what little confidence Jefferson’s already managed to muster.

Jefferson takes a deep breath that Brock mirrors. The only voice he finds is barely more than a breath, but it’s enough. “Brock, I’m p-pregnant.”

Brock feels his mouth fall open, but it’s his turn to flounder for his voice as the floor wavers underneath him. Pregnant. That’s…

He swallows, his throat thick.

Pregnant.

In the absence of any words from Brock, Jefferson is suddenly overwhelmed with them.

“I-I didn’t think I could be, but I was sick and you said I smelled different, and those are all the same things that happened last time. I took like three tests as soon as I got off work and they all came up positive—”

“Three?”

Brock’s not exactly proud that that’s the only thing he’s managed to say, and it does nothing to help Jefferson’s obviously growing panic.

“Well I wanted to be sure, because I didn’t know how it could’ve happened, but it did…” He’s breathing heavy again, his hand flying up to rake through his hair. “I don’t know what happened, I’m sorry—”

Brock feels his heart break when he hears the apology. Jefferson’s apologizing for being pregnant… “You were scared to tell me.” All the fear he’s been feeling all day, it’s from Jefferson’s being scared of him. The omega looks away, his lip quivering for a moment before his bites down on it.

“I-I didn’t know how you’d react,” he whispers. “We only talked about having kids once and you said you hadn’t really considered it…”

Brock shakes his head, his chest still aching with guilt. “I said, I’d never really thought about it…” But his correction’s too gentle, and Jefferson just shakes his head.

“But this is a big deal,” Jefferson whimpers. “We should have had a chance to think about it.” 

His hand goes to his belly, and Brock’s chest constricts all over again. Jefferson’s known for a few hours at most, but he already loves this baby. Their baby… 

“Well I have thought about it since that one conversation,” Brock sighs, turning more insistent when Jefferson’s gaze remains dubious. “I mean it, I have.” How could he not when he knows how much it matters to Jefferson? 

“And?” There’s still a nervous edge to Jefferson’s voice, but it’s fading. Brock smiles.

“And…” he murmurs, leaning closer, until he sees Jefferson’s lashes flutter. “I think we’re bonded to each other, we have a home together, we’re both employed, and I love you more than anything.”

He can feel the tension draining out of Jefferson’s body, and as he lets their lips brush together, his hand covers Jefferson’s, right over where it’s rested on the omega’s lower belly. It’s answer enough to bring a smile to Jefferson’s face, which lingers as Brock pulls back to look into shining eyes.

“I would love to have a baby with you, beautiful.”

A happy laugh bubbles up out of Jefferson’s throat, and his smile flashes brighter as he grips Brock’s hand. “Really?”

“Really,” Brock grins. “Maybe we weren’t expecting it this soon, but there’s no reason why we should be anything but happy about this.”

Jefferson’s breath catches in his throat, and Brock sees the tears coming as he leans in for another kiss, deeper this time, gleeful as Jefferson laughs again. 

“That’s good crying, right?” Brock asks when he sees he sees tears spilling onto Jefferson’s cheeks.

“Yeah,” Jefferson nods, sniffling as he leans into the broad hands that rise to wipe the wetness from his cheeks. “Really happy.”

“Good,” Brock smiles. His hand finds Jefferson’s stomach again as he’s drawn in for more kisses. He can already see Jefferson with a growing belly, glowing and beautiful with their baby.

Their baby. This time he smiles at the thought. He’d be lying is he denied that it’s more than a little nerve-wracking, but there’s a bubbling excitement that tempers any nervousness. And really, he’d be more worried about someone who had no fear about bringing a tiny person into the world.

“I wasn’t scared of you,” Jefferson says when he pulls back. “I wasn’t, I just didn’t know what you would say and my mind just got away from me. I just couldn’t…” His voice falters, his hand going to his belly again. 

“Couldn’t give up another baby,” Brock sighs. Jefferson nods, leaning heavily against Brock when he’s pulled closer. “I know. You fell in love the moment that test came up positive, I’d never make you give up our baby.”

Jefferson nods, giggling softly. “Our baby,” he murmurs. Brock grins along with him. 

“Yeah, our baby,” he sighs. “And I hope it looks just like you.”

“What if I want it to look like you?” Jefferson smirks.

“What would you want that for?” Brock chuckles. Jefferson just rolls his eyes, before pulling on Brock’s collar to tug him into another kiss. 

“Maybe you’re right,” Jefferson purrs. “I’m not sure the world could handle more than one of you.”

“Probably,” Brock sighs. “But the world could definitely use more of you.”

“Hush,” Jefferson mutters, pink rising in his cheeks. Brock doesn’t hesitate to kiss that rosiness softly. “So it looks like we’ve got a few more months of me being sick in the morning.”

“Unfortunately,” Brock sighs. “Maybe a few more month of you not liking sweet things, too.”

“But that’s like half of what I eat,” Jefferson whines, making Brock laugh.

“I’m sure we’ll figure something out,” Brock smiles. Jefferson huffs dramatically, but is back to smiling soon enough. “So what do you think happened? Birth control malfunction while you were in heat?”

“We didn’t have a condom break or anything…” Jefferson shrugs, shaking his head. “I think it was when we bonded. It felt like being in heat, and that can happen, right?”

“I think so,” Brock nods. “And it was only after that when I noticed the change in your scent.”

“But that seems kind of fast for me to already be showing signs,” Jefferson sighs. 

“Well we can ask when we go to get you checked out,” Brock shrugs. “They can tell how many weeks you are.”

“Right,” Jefferson nods. A giddy smile is back on his face soon enough. “When do you think we should tell everybody?”

“Well we’re going to be celebrating your birthday in a couple weeks,” Brock grins. “That might be a good time.”

“Oh god,” Jefferson mutters. “Why do we have to celebrate my birthday again? We didn’t do anything for yours.”

“I recall my birthday being a day full of surprises actually,” Brock chuckles. Jefferson pushes at his chest and blushes. “Plus I’ve had more birthdays than you anyway, so yours are more special.”

Jefferson snorts. “I don’t think that’s how it works.”

“I think that’s exactly how it works,” Brock hums, pressing kisses along Jefferson’s neck that have the omega dissolving into giggles. “Besides, Natasha’s already working on plans, and there’s no stopping her.”

“Of course,” Jefferson sighs, tipping his head to nuzzle Brock’s cheek. “Fine, we’ll tell everybody at my birthday party.”

“Sounds good to me,” Brock nods. “Everybody’s gonna be excited.”

“Even Jack?”

“Oh yeah,” Brock laughs. “He’s a big ol’ softie.”

“True,” Jefferson smiles. It falls quiet for a moment, and Brock finds himself staring up at the blithe, beautiful little smile on Jefferson’s face. 

“Whatcha thinking about, beautiful?”

Jefferson shakes his head. “It’s just settling in, you know?” he murmurs. “We’re really gonna have a baby.” He giggles, breaking into a smile that Brock just wants to kiss. “I almost don’t want to wait nine months.”

“Well we do have a few things to take care of first,” Brock chuckles. “Turning that spare room we’ve got into a nursery, for one.” Jefferson’s moan is dreamy and sweet, drawing Brock in for that kiss he’s been dying for. “Plus I’m looking forward to how pretty you’re gonna be with that belly.”

Jefferson bites his lip as he grins. “You’re so full of it.”

“I am not,” Brock laughs. “I’ve always thought pregnant people were beautiful, and I since you’re already beautiful, things can only get better.”

Jefferson smiles, reaching up to card his fingers through Brock’s hair. “I’ll hold you to it,” he murmurs. One more kiss, and then Jefferson’s sighing in his arms. 

“Time for bed?”

“Definitely?” Jefferson nods. “There’s been too much excitement today.”

“No kidding” Brock nods, pushing himself up and pulling Jefferson to his feet and into his arms.

It’s a struggle not to hover as they dress themselves for bed. Brock wants to have his hands on Jefferson every moment, to breathe in the new, gentle scent of his skin. And even once they’re laying down, he finds himself fussing with Jefferson’s pillow, making sure it’s perfectly soft under the omega’s head.

“Is this something else I have months of to look forward to?” Jefferson smiles.

“Probably,” Brock chuckles. “Because now I have you and a baby to worry about.”

“Of course,” Jefferson giggles. Brock cocks a grin, letting kisses drift down Jefferson’s neck and chest. Over his clothes, soft and comforting, until he reaches Jefferson’s belly, where he pushes up the omega’s shirt just enough to place a warm kiss on his skin, for the tiny glimmer growing inside his mate.

“Sweetheart,” Jefferson coos. Brock’s laugh is bashful as he pushes back up. They trade chaste kisses as Brock pulls the omega in closer, only stopping when Jefferson’s nuzzles the tip of his nose against Brock’s.

“Thank you for coming home early,” he sighs. “I would’ve only become more of a mess the longer I waited.”

“Me too,” Brock nods. “I could feel how nervous you were.”

“Really?”

“Oh yeah,” Brock laughs. “Like I’d swallowed a brick.”

Jefferson giggles, hiding his face in Brock’s chest. “The drawbacks of a bond, I guess.”

“I guess,” Brock shrugs. “I don’t know. I kinda like being able to get into your head a little, since you don’t always like to tell me when you’re upset.”

“I know,” Jefferson sighs, smiling softly. “Love you.”

“More than anything,” Brock nods. “My mate.”

“Always,” Jefferson replies. “Just like you’re mine.”

Brock grins, resting his forehead against Jefferson’s. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope everyone's as excited for pregnancy and baby fluff as I am XD Leave a review if you enjoyed!!


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A long chapter to make up for the extra bit of waiting! I hope everyone like where this goes a far as character relationships… 
> 
> Leave me a comment to let me know what you think! <3

Jefferson’s pregnant.

It’s still a surreal thought, even as days go by and more symptoms crop up. The jasmine scent on Jefferson’s skin doesn’t fade, but unfortunately neither does his morning sickness. Brock wakes up almost daily to an empty bed, the bathroom light on, and water running.

Though that is preferable to the times Jefferson doesn’t quite make it to the sink. Brock doesn’t mind cleaning up, but Jefferson murmuring a litany of soft apologies from the shower starts to break his heart after a while.

Jefferson’s novel dislike for sweets shows no sign of wavering either, even when he isn’t nauseated. Not that Jefferson doesn’t give it his best shot; he’s been taking bites out pretty much anything edible within reach. It’s almost comical to watch his face scrunch up each time he tries an old favorite and finds he can’t stomach it. 

His sense of smell kicks into overdrive as well, with less than glamorous results. Brock makes the mistake of having a burger for lunch one day, and when Jefferson arrives home, several hours later, he refuses to even come in the apartment until it’s been properly ventilated and Brock’s washed his hands and face, and brushed his teeth thoroughly.

Brock doesn’t have much choice but to comply when the alternative is watching Jefferson dry heave in the hallway.

“Ok, so no red meat unless I have time to fumigate the apartment before you get home,” he chuckles once they’re settled on the couch with a dinner Jefferson can actually stand to get near.

“M’sorry,” Jefferson mumbles.

“Come on, baby…” Brock sighs, leaning over to kiss Jefferson’s forehead. “It’s not your fault.”

Jefferson nods, sighing heavily as he cuddles closer against Brock’s side. Brock wraps his arm around the omega’s shoulder, letting his plate rest on his knee. 

“Doing ok, beautiful?”

“Yeah,” Jefferson murmurs, but then shakes his head a moment later. “I don’t wanna go to the doctor tomorrow.”

“I know,” Brock smiles, squeezing Jefferson’s shoulders. “But we have to make sure everybody’s healthy, don’t we?”

Jefferson laughs softly, hiding his face in Brock’s chest. “I guess.” He glances up at Brock, a little smile on his face. “You better hold my hand the whole time they’re poking and prodding me.”

“Of course,” Brock grins. As Jefferson leans up for a kiss, Brock lets his fingertips glide down the omega’s arm, feeling goosebumps rise on the soft skin. Jefferson moans, pushing their plates off to the side and nudging Brock onto his back. Jefferson’s appetite for eating isn’t the only one that’s been spiking recently.

“Your food’s gonna get cold,” Brock chuckles between kisses.

“I don’t care,” Jefferson mutters, slipping his hands under Brock’s shirt. “That’s why we have a microwave.”

******

Jefferson stays glued to Brock’s side in the waiting room of Dr. Cho’s office, hands curled around his alpha’s arm, cheek pressed to his shoulder.

“Why do these places have to smell so awful,” he mumbles, turning his head to nuzzle into Brock’s neck. “All sterile…”

“I know,” Brock mutters, picking at the stark white plastic of his seat. “At least you smell good.”

Jefferson mumbles something unintelligible into his shoulder, but the only thing Brock hears clearly is Jefferson’s sigh as he raises his head. “I don’t wanna give birth in a hospital.”

Brock frowns, meeting insistent grey eyes that leave little room for argument. “Seriously?”

“Yes.” Jefferson shakes his head, sighing again as he wraps one arm over his stomach. “I mean, if something’s wrong and I have to be with a doctor, that’s one thing, but if I’m healthy, and my baby’s healthy, why should I be in a building full of sick people?”

“Well things can go wrong even if you’re healthy…” Brock mumbles.

“Rarely. And midwives know how to handle it when it does,” Jefferson huffs. “And ambulances exist if something goes really wrong.”

Brock wants to argue, but he’s coming up short, and Jefferson’s stubborn gaze isn’t worth fighting. He sighs. “Talk to the doctor about it,” he shrugs. “It’s your body.”

“Thank you,” Jefferson murmurs. He lets out a long breath, and soon enough his cheek is rested against Brock’s shoulder again. “I just wanna be somewhere I feel safe, you know?”

Brock nods. “I can appreciate that,” he says. “So you’d want to be at home?”

“Yeah,” Jefferson smiles. “Do you remember Wanda? You met her once in the shop…”

“The Eastern European chick?”

Jefferson snorts. “Yeah, her,” he giggles. “She’s a midwife, and a registered nurse. I was gonna ask her about it the next time she came in.”

Brock nods, smiling a little. Somehow it’s reassuring to have a person clearly in mind. “You like her?”

Jefferson shrugs. “She’s nice…” He laughs softly and sighs. “I don’t know, I’ve always thought that she was kinda weird, like me. I guess I like that, even though we’ve never met outside of the shop.”

“Fair enough,” Brock chuckles, holding out his hand, which Jefferson readily takes, grinning brightly.

“Jefferson?”

They both look up when the nurse calls his name, and Jefferson’s grip tightens as they’re led back. The nurse takes all the standard measurements, all smiles as she congratulates them on their bond and pregnancy. Jefferson’s all smiles too, until he’s handed a paper gown.

“Just change in here. Dr. Cho will be in soon.”

Jefferson nods, and once the door is shut, lets out a long breath. “This is the part where you have to hold my hand,” he mutters.

“Understood,” Brock smiles, taking Jefferson’s clothes and folding them on instinct as the omega changes. 

“Freezing in here…” Jefferson mumbles, the flimsy paper crinkling as he sits down on sticky plastic. Brock doesn’t hesitate to put an arm around him, letting the omega lean against his chest.

“It’s all worth it, right?” he murmurs, running his fingers through Jefferson’s hair.

“Yeah,” Jefferson sighs. “I still don’t have to like getting something put inside me.”

Brock nods, letting himself smirk a little. “Can’t be so bad,” he shrugs. “I put stuff inside you all the time.”

“God, shut up,” Jefferson snorts, pushing at Brock’s arm, but giggling soon enough. “It’s different when it’s a doctor.”

“I know, I know,” Brock smiles. “Just trying to pass the time.”

Jefferson nods, hiding his face in the crook of Brock’s neck. His gown slips down his shoulder, and Brock can’t resist kissing his bondmark lightly. Jefferson moans, pushing him away.

“Quit…” he whines.

Brock frowns a little, but does pull back. “What’s up?”

“Nothing,” Jefferson sighs, pressing a soft kiss to Brock’s lips. “I’m just about to have someone who isn’t you between my legs and I’d rather not, you know…”

“Right,” Brock nods. “My bad.”

Jefferson smiles, swinging his leg as he sighs. Finally, there’s a light tapping at the door, and Dr. Cho walks in, greeting them both.

“How are you doing?” she smiles at Jefferson, who blushes just as sweetly as ever.

“Ok, I guess,” he murmurs, smiling. “Excited.”

“I would imagine so,” Dr. Cho nods. “I hear you’ve had a little happy accident.”

“Yeah,” Jefferson giggles, resting his hand over his stomach as he glances at Brock. “It’s just a question of when…”

“Well that’s what we’re here for,” Dr. Cho nods. “Why don’t you lay down.”

Jefferson reaches for Brock’s hand as he settles himself against the exam chair. Dr. Cho begins to turn on the ultrasound machine, the screen coming to life after a few button presses. “So when was your last heat?”

“Six weeks ago,” Jefferson replies.

“And was it a normal length one?”

“I guess,” Jefferson shrugs. “Four days.”

Dr. Cho nods. “It’s likely you conceived then, what makes you think it might’ve been a different time?”

“Well we used condoms the whole time, like always, and none of them broke,” Jefferson says. “Then a week after that, we bonded, and I know it’s possible to get pregnant during that…”

“It’s certainly possible,” Dr. Cho nods. “Bonding comes with a large surge of hormones, it can induce a pseudo-heat or rut, where you’re just as fertile as you would be during the normal peak in your cycle. Usually a normal dose of birth control is enough to manage it, but every now and then…”

Jefferson nods, smiling at Brock again. “Happy accidents.” Brock brings Jefferson’s hand up to kiss it softly. Neither of them is complaining about this accident. Dr. Cho waits until she has their attention again before continuing.

“It shouldn’t be too difficult to determine whether you’re five or six weeks along,” she says. “Fetuses develop very quickly this early, the size differences are obvious.”

“Ok.” Jefferson smiles at first, but when Dr. Cho flips up the stirrups on the chair, he falters. 

“Have you ever had an internal ultrasound before?”

Jefferson shakes his head, his grip tightening on Brock’s hand. Brock presses another kiss to his fingers. “It’s not gonna hurt, right?”

“No,” Dr. Cho smiles, sympathetic. “You’ll feel pressure, but if there’s any pain, just tell me and I’ll make adjustments.” Once Jefferson nods, she directs him to put his feet up in the stirrups. Jefferson does with a face like he’s nauseated, his knees still pointed in towards each other. Dr. Cho notices, sighing with a vague smile. “Nobody really likes this part, just try to relax.”

Jefferson nods, turning towards Brock and managing a weak smile. Brock brushes a kiss against his forehead, rubbing gently over his fingers. “Just breathe, beautiful.”

Jefferson’s smile gets a little stronger as he draws in a slow breath. “Thanks,” he murmurs.

“For what?” Brock grins.

Jefferson shrugs, blushing softly. “Just for being here,” he smiles. 

“As if I’d miss out on getting to see our baby,” Brock chuckles. “Even if it looks more like a tadpole than a kid right now.”

“And is only about the size of a grape,” Jefferson giggles.

“Not quite a grape actually,” Dr. Cho adds, smiling when Jefferson looks over at her. “If you’re six weeks, it’ll only be about half a centimeter.”

Brock raises an eyebrow. “Tiny little thing,” he smiles. Jefferson giggles again.

Brock’s back to having his hand crushed in Jefferson’s grip, the omega’s face scrunching up as the ultrasound probe is slid into him.

“Is that comfortable?”

Jefferson snorts. “It doesn’t hurt at least,” he mutters. “Doesn’t help that I need to pee…”

“One of these days we’ll develop an exam that doesn’t require a full bladder,” Dr. Cho sighs. “Until then, I can only apologize.”

Jefferson smiles, sucking in another breath as the probe inside him is adjusted, eyes squeezing shut. Brock rests his lips against Jefferson’s hand, watching black and white images flick across the small screen.

“There we go.” They both perk up as Dr. Cho points out a small black patch in the screen. As she taps a few controls, the image zooms in on an even tinier white dot inside the black.

“Oh my god,” Jefferson breathes. Brock feels a smile spread on his face, pressing a kiss to Jefferson’s palm when the omega’s hand turns in his grasp to cup his cheek.

“You got lucky, usually this early you can only see the amniotic sac, not the actual fetus.”

Brock sees Jefferson nod out of the corner of his eye, but both of them have their gaze trained on the screen. Dr. Cho makes a few measurements, letting them enjoy the quiet.

“Looks like you’re just about five weeks along,” she finally announces. “Conception date seems to have been approximately September 4th.”

“That’s when we bonded,” Jefferson murmurs, tearing his gaze away from the screen for just a moment to smile at Brock. “I told you.”

“I know you did,” Brock murmurs back, leaning up for a kiss when he sees wetness sparkling in Jefferson’s eyes. “So, if I’m counting correctly, that gives us a June baby?”

Dr. Cho nods, smiling. “June 8th is your tentative due date. Though it’s not uncommon to be a few days or even weeks on either side of that, so don’t get too attached to that date.”

“Seems so far away,” Jefferson sighs, his eyes fixed on the screen again.

“Trust me, you’ll be so busy preparing, the time’s going to fly by,” she says. “You’ll be delivering before you know it.”

Jefferson giggles softly, though he’s back to gripping Brock’s hand again. Nervous, but who wouldn’t be? “About delivering…” he starts, pausing until Dr. Cho looks over. “If I wanted to do a homebirth, would that be alright?”

“Well, you’re young and relatively healthy, so that puts you at low risk,” Dr. Cho says. “We still have to do your bloodwork, and both you and the fetus have to be monitored throughout your pregnancy to make sure everything stays normal and healthy, but provided there are no red flags, I would say go for it.”

“Really?” Brock can’t help but be surprised. Dr. Cho is clearly holding in a grin as she shrugs.

“Most of the time, what people in labor need more than anything is emotional support, and someone to monitor for complications. A midwife in your home can do that just as well as a nurse in a hospital can.”

“But what if there are complications?”

“Then the midwife can intervene, or you can be admitted to a hospital, depending on how severe the issues are,” Dr. Cho explains. “I’m all for midwives, honestly. More healthy people giving birth at home or in birthing centers lets me give more attention to the people who really need medical assistance. Plus I imagine it would be comforting to go through labor in the same place where you’ve been nesting.”

“That’s what I thought, too,” Jefferson nods, grinning up at Brock, who can only sigh and relent.

“As long as the doctor thinks it’s alright…”

“Oh, you had to hear it from her, did you?” Jefferson raises an eyebrow, biting his lip in a weak effort to stifle his grinning.

“Well she’s not the doctor for nothing, baby,” Brock smirks. Jefferson laughs, accepting a kiss when Brock leans down.

“Worrywart.”

“What happened to sweetheart?”

“I never said you couldn’t be both.”

They both laugh again, before glancing sheepishly back over at Dr. Cho, who’s patiently taking more pictures and measurements on the ultrasound.

“Don’t mind me,” she smiles. “It’s always nice to see a happy family come through here.”

Jefferson blushes softly, and Brock can’t resist kissing those pinks cheeks. Family. For once the word inspires a warmth in him, not a sinking feeling. Jefferson glances up at him, a look in his eyes that has Brock feeling a little light-headed. 

They do still have a touch of self-control, however, and manage to drag their gazes away from each other eventually. Jefferson’s eyes find the screen again, smiling as he watches their tiny baby.

“Five weeks is too early for a heartbeat, isn’t it?” he sighs.

“Afraid so,” Dr. Cho nods. “But I can print you out a picture, if you’d like?”

Jefferson can’t say yes fast enough.

Once the exam ends, Dr. Cho leaves them so Jefferson can change again. They still have more tests to wade through—Jefferson has zero shame about whimpering into Brock’s shoulder when they take blood from him—but being handed a small, black-and-white photo of their baby at the end of it all makes it worth it. 

Jefferson cradles the picture like it’s made of glass, running his fingertip over it softly as they drive home.

“That’ll be nice to show everyone at your party,” Brock murmurs. Jefferson nods, but there’s a faraway look on his face that has Brock reaching over to hold his hand gently. “What is it, baby?”

“Nothing,” Jefferson sighs. He’s more forthcoming soon enough. “When I had my abortion, they forced me to sit through an ultrasound before the procedure…”

Brock nods, squeezing Jefferson’s hand. “I’m sorry.”

“It wasn’t so bad,” Jefferson murmurs. “The nurse didn’t really say anything, and I just stared at the wall…”

“It’s fucking cruel,” Brock mutters.

“Brock…” Jefferson’s soft voice placates him a little, but he still chews the inside of his cheek.

“You didn’t deserve any of that.”

“I know, but it still happened,” Jefferson nods, smiling down at the ultrasound picture again. “But this helps, you know? Being able to go through it in a happy way. Getting to celebrate with you, getting to see our baby…it’s therapeutic almost.”

Brock smiles vaguely, stroking his thumb along the back of Jefferson’s hand. “I’m glad.”

Jefferson presses a kiss to Brock’s hand, sighing as he leans back against the seat. They sit in silence for a moment, and the heaviness passes. Out of the corner of his eye, Brock sees Jefferson look over at him.

“Can we order pizza when we get home?” he asks. The innocence of the question brings a smile back to Brock’s face. “I want the one with pineapple…”

“You hate pineapple.” Brock can’t help but blurt it out, stifling a laugh. “You said it makes your tongue feel funny, I’ve never seen you eat it.”

“Well I want it now,” Jefferson huffs. “And garlic.”

Brock laughs softly. “Alright, baby, whatever you want.”

By the time they get home, Jefferson’s order has been updated to included two types of blue cheese, and three types of olives. Brock just shakes his head and orders a separate one for himself.

Jefferson’s pizza is gone before Brock’s even on his third slice.

******

Jefferson’s party isn’t exactly a big affair, just in their apartment. Natasha and Jack are coming, of course, and Maria’s roped in as well. Brock even sneaks in an invitation to Belle, who couldn’t look more excited. 

Natasha comes over before everyone else and whisks Jefferson into the bedroom, leaving Brock to finish up making food for everyone. Not that Jefferson had been doing much other than stealing bites and bothering him with kisses, but that had been help enough. Maria arrives soon after and is more than willing to help set up, though the same can’t be said for Jack, who shows up half an hour after that, flashing a grin as he grabs a beer and drops himself down onto the couch.

“What? Not gonna help us out?” Brock grins as he makes sure everything’s neat and straight on the table.

“Seems like you’ve got it covered,” Jack shrugs. “Besides, I’m pretty sure you guys only keep me around to look good, so I might as well indulge you.”

Brock snorts. Jack just raises his beer in toast before downing another sip.

Belle shows up next, smiling brightly as she’s introduced to everyone. “So where are you hiding your mate?” she asks Brock once she’s comfortably seated.

“Our friend Natasha stole him away a while ago,” Brock shrugs, nodding towards the hallway. “Haven’t seen them since, I think she’s helping him get ready.”

“A little birthday present,” Maria smiles. 

“Oh how sweet,” Belle coos. “He’s so pretty, I’m surprised he doesn’t dress up more often.”

“You and I both,” Brock smiles. Especially since he knows how much Jefferson enjoys looking nice. He glances back towards the bedroom again and, almost as if on cue, Natasha comes waltzing out with Jefferson in tow.

“Look who I found,” she grins as she guides Jefferson out into the main room. The omega’s hair is pinned up in elaborate braids, except for a few curls left loose to frame his face. His eyes are made wide and shimmery with makeup, and there’s a gleam on his cheekbones too. But what Brock’s eyes really fix on is the rich red painted on his lips, a brilliant contrast to the pastel turquoise of his flowing top.

Brock finds himself a little breathless at the sight of him, and Jack even wolf-whistles, making Jefferson laugh and hide his face behind his hand.

“Don’t cover up all my hard work,” Natasha scolds playfully, and Jefferson allows his hand to be pulled away. Brock’s at his side before he can even think to stop, a stupid grin on his face as Jefferson smiles shyly up at him.

“Are we sure it’s not my birthday?” he grins. Jefferson giggles again, pushing at Brock’s shoulder.

“Hush,” he murmurs. Brock chuckles, kissing Jefferson’s temple.

“Come on, give him a real kiss,” Natasha smirks, leaning against Maria so her alpha’s arms can slip around her waist. 

“Well I didn’t want to mess up all your hard work,” he smirks, his hands resting on Jefferson’s waist. Can’t resist the urge to keep his hands near Jefferson’s belly. Natasha rolls her eyes.

“He’s wearing a lip stain. Watch.” She turns and presses her own bubble gum pink lips to Maria’s cheek, pulling back without leaving a smudge. “Stays on through damn near anything. Have all the fun you want.”

Brock chuckles and glances over to see the ferocious blush on Jefferson’s cheeks, but when the omega gives a little smile, Brock brushes a little kiss against those red lips.

“Please, that’s not a real kiss,” Jack calls. Jefferson giggles softly as Brock turns to raise an eyebrow at Jack, who shrugs, grinning. “C’mon, you guys just bonded, didn’t you? Kiss him like you mean it.”

Brock scoffs, but Jefferson tugs softly on his collar and he turns back just in time for Jefferson’s lips to press against his, firm and sweet. He can’t help a soft hum of surprise, but he doesn’t hesitate to cup Jefferson’s face and kiss back. And he’s not about to pretend that the laughter and whistles of their onlookers does nothing to encourage him.

Jefferson’s the one looking breathless once he pulls back, a satisfied smirk on Brock’s face as he takes in the new rosiness on the omega’s cheeks. For a moment, he almost feels guilty, considering the hair-trigger Jefferson’s hormones have him on these days. But the smile on Jefferson’s face tells him he’s forgiven, and the darkness in those pale eyes promises he’ll be making up for it later.

“Pretty impressive,” Jefferson smiles, brushing his thumb over Brock’s lips. “There’ve probably been a few occasions when we could’ve used something a little more discreet.”

“I can think of a couple,” Brock nods, glancing over at Jack, who smirks.

“If that’s your way of asking me if I remember that little incident on Valentine’s Day, I do.” Jefferson laughs, hiding his face in Brock’s shoulder.

“What happened on Valentine’s Day?” Belle asks.

“I stumbled into them in the park,” Jack grins. Brock rolls his eyes. “Brock had red smeared all over his mouth, though Jefferson had the sense to clean up.”

Belle’s hand flies over her mouth as she blushes and giggles, while Maria stifles her laughter in Natasha’s shoulder. Natasha has no such tact.

“Jefferson, you couldn’t even warn him?” she teases. Jefferson shrugs, glancing up sheepishly at Brock.

“It was a good color on him.”

The elicits another round of laughter. “He’s right,” Jack grins. 

Brock looks for something to throw at him. But Jefferson places another kiss on his cheek, mollifying him with a little smile.

Jefferson goes to greet everyone with hugs and pretty laughter. He can’t seem to get out enough thank yous; Brock has to silence him with another kiss.

“You do look beautiful, by the way,” he murmurs when they’ve got a moment of quiet to themselves while everyone settles. “Really beautiful.”

“Thank you,” Jefferson whispers back. “I know you like the red lips, that’s why I told Natasha to use this color.”

Brock groans weakly under his breath, leaning in for another kiss. “You’re perfect.” Jefferson just giggles before sighing softly.

“I almost didn’t believe Natasha when she said I could keep anything I wanted. Everything she’d brought was brand new and she just let me keep it…”

“You mean, like a birthday present?” Brock teases. Color rushes into Jefferson’s cheeks, faster than he can hide them in Brock’s chest.

“Shush,” he mutters. “I’m not used to getting presents, or having people throw parties for me.”

“I know,” Brock sighs, kissing the top of Jefferson’s head. “That’s kinda why I insisted.”

“Are you gonna hog the birthday boy all to yourself?” Maria asks. Natasha chuckles as she slides behind the kitchen counter that looks out into the main room.

“Maria and I brought the bar,” she smiles. “So what is everyone drinking?” 

She looks at Jefferson first, who blushes softly. “Just water,” he murmurs.

“Back to just water?” She raises an eyebrow, grinning. “Not feeling so brave anymore?”

“I-it’s not that,” Jefferson smiles. He glances up at Brock, who nods. Now’s as good a time as any. “I can’t have alcohol right now.”

If the words weren’t enough, the way Jefferson rests his hand on his belly and the ecstatic smile on his face tell everyone all they need to know. Natasha vaults the counter to wrap her arms around Jefferson.

“Really?” Belle gasps, reaching for Jefferson’s hands once Natasha releases him. Jefferson nods, clasping Belle’s hands in return. 

“Yeah,” he says. “We just got the doctor to confirm it last week, but we found out a little before that.”

“Congratulations,” Belle coos.

“Congratulations,” Natasha mirrors. Jack and Maria follow suit.

“Knew it,” Jack grins, clapping Brock on the back.

“And how did you know?” Jefferson laughs, accepting a hug from Maria, who kisses his cheek and rests her hand affectionately on Brock’s shoulder after.

“Brock mentioned a couple weeks ago that you were feeling sick and didn’t want anything sweet, I just put two and two together.” Jack smiles. “Plus the scent is unmistakable.”

Jefferson blushes and nods. “We don’t give you enough credit,” he giggles. Jack shrugs.

“I have four sisters and almost a dozen nieces and nephews,” he chuckles. “You learn the signs pretty quickly.”

“ _Four_ sisters?” Jefferson repeats, his eyes going wide.

“Four,” Jack laughs. “Nobody told you?”

“Brock told me you had sisters,” Jefferson snorts, looking up at Brock, who shrugs. “He didn’t say _four_.”

“Well you never asked,” Brock laughs. “I didn’t think the exact number mattered that much.”

“Well four is a lot,” Jefferson giggles. “Five, when you count him.”

“You don’t have to tell me,” Jack laughs, winking as he shoves his hands into his pockets. “Do me a favor, don’t have five.”

Jefferson scoffs as he rests his head on Brock’s shoulder. “We’re just gonna try to get through one, first, thank you.”

“Don’t speak too soon,” Natasha shrugs, squeezing Jefferson’s arm gently. “One can turn out to be two.”

“Oh god, don’t make me worry about that,” Brock laughs. Jefferson grins, kissing his cheek.

“Well it certainly looked like just one on the ultrasound,” he reminds Brock gently. “We can stick with that assumption for now.”

“Do you have a photo?” Maria asks, surprising Brock with the eagerness in her voice. Jefferson nods immediately.

“Yeah, in the bedroom,” he giggles. 

“I’ll go get it,” Brock smiles. “You stay here, let everyone love you.”

Jefferson rolls his eyes, but by the time Brock’s gone and come back, Belle and Maria are flanking him on the couch, with Natasha perched on the arm and Jack in the adjacent chair. Belle’s still holding Jefferson’s hand, and Jefferson laughs at something she’s said that Brock doesn’t catch. 

“Found the picture,” he calls, walking over and sitting on the other edge of the couch, passing the photo to Belle. She holds it as delicately as Jefferson did, cooing softly.

“Sweet,” she smiles, letting Jefferson pass it to Maria and Natasha, who both get uncharacteristically gentle looks on their faces

“I’m only six weeks,” Jefferson says. “So it’s hard to see much of anything, but…”

“But it’s nice to have something to keep on your nightstand,” Natasha chuckles, leaning over to show Jack, who, despite all his stoicism, leans over very quickly. 

“Tiny little fella,” Jack grins, glancing at Brock. “Guess we know where he gets that from.”

“I will hit you,” Brock mutters, shaking his head and grinning when Jefferson huffs at him. “Anyway, we don’t know that it’s a he.”

“Well, whatever it is, congrats,” Jack smiles. “And I’m sure it’ll get being a cutie from the mama’s side.”

Jefferson actually blushes when Jack winks at him. “You are so mean!” he giggles.

“I’m mean for telling you that you’re cute?” Jack smirks. Jefferson rolls his eyes, looking over at Brock.

“You’re cute, too, ignore him,” he smiles. 

“I always do,” Brock laughs, winking back at Jack.

“Yeah, yeah, you’re all adorable,” Natasha drawls, grinning as she hands the photo back to Jefferson before getting up. “But we still need to celebrate, so everyone who doesn’t have a bun in the oven needs to tell me what they’re drinking.”

Drinks and food and easy conversation pass the afternoon, and Jefferson’s lit up the whole time. He doesn’t say anything about it, but Brock can feel the omega’s emotions welling up, threatening to spill over every now and then. Not used to parties… Brock sneaks in a kiss on the omega’s cheek or hand or shoulder, whatever he can reach first, each time it happens. 

It gets harder for Jefferson to hide his emotions when he starts being handed gifts. Brock’s worried the omega might actually implode when Belle presses a neatly wrapped package into his hands.

“I’ve noticed you eyeing it at the shop,” she smiles. “I figured it would be better loved as part of your collection.”

Jefferson stutters out a thank you, and has to be prompted to actually remove the wrapping paper and open the box inside, revealing a bright blue hat, knitted, with a little visor and rhinestones dotted throughout. Jefferson gasps and pulls Belle into a hug as soon as he sees it.

“Thank you!” The words rush out of Jefferson as he runs his fingers gently over the hat. “Thank you so much, I love it.”

“I thought you would,” Belle smiles. “I’m sure it will look adorable on you.”

Jefferson blushes at the compliment, murmuring another thank you. He looks up when Jack taps him on the shoulder and pulls out a tiny white box. Jack chuckles when Jefferson’s lips part into a perfect surprised ‘o’.

“Get used to it, kid,” he grins, watching Jefferson stumble between gently setting down Belle’s present and take the new one he’s being offered. “You getting presents isn’t gonna stop anytime soon.” 

Brock laughs too as Jefferson blushes, and cranes his neck to get a look at whatever’s in the box. Jack had called to get his opinion on it, so he’s got an idea already, but he can’t help being curious about what it looks like in person. Jefferson opens the box delicately, his eyes going wide as soon as he catches sight of the pair of earrings inside. Pale grey pearls, each surrounded by a ring of tiny diamonds. Brock stifles a snort when Jefferson drops down onto the couch, like his knees have given out.

“Oh my…” he breathes, looking up at Jack, who’s grin broadens.

“You like ‘em?”

Jefferson nods wordlessly, his thumb stroking the rim of the box. “They’re beautiful,” he finally murmurs, still sounding a little breathless. “Th-those aren’t real, right?”

“Yeah, they’re real,” Jack smiles. Brock’s pretty sure Jefferson actually stops breathing for a moment. “And don’t even think of asking how much they were. I’m not going to tell you.”

“Oh my god…”

“Why don’t you put them on?”

It’s Maria who makes the offer, sitting down next to Jefferson. The omega looks at her, still with a look of shock frozen on his face. Maria laughs softly, but waits until Jefferson nods before carefully taking out the little silver studs he already has in his ears, and replacing them with the pearls.

“You have good taste,” she muses, glancing at Jack. “These are high quality.”

The alpha just shrugs. “Like I said, I’ve got sisters.”

Maria rolls her eyes, smiling back at Jefferson once both earrings are on. “Beautiful.”

Jefferson’s face is a permanent red by now as he reaches up to brush his fingers against the earrings. “Thank you,” he murmurs to Maria, before looking up at Jack. “Thank you,” he says again when he pushes up and wraps his arms around Jack’s shoulders.

Jack shakes his head, patting Jefferson’s back. “You’re welcome, kid,” he mutters, but Jefferson doesn’t let go. Jack glances at Brock, who shrugs, grinning at the slightly uncomfortable look on Jack’s face. Jefferson hugs, it’s just his nature. If Jack wants to give him shiny presents, he’s gonna have to get used to that. 

Jack clears his throat, rubbing Jefferson’s back this time. “Come on, kid, don’t make it weird.”

Jefferson giggles shyly, but does pull back, clasping his fingers over the earrings again. “Sorry,” he murmurs, still smiling. Jack winces. 

“Well shit, don’t apologize,” he sighs, smiling when Jefferson giggles again. “Come on, enough about me. How about we find out what your mate got you for your birthday?”

“I told him not to get me anything,” Jefferson sighs. “A baby is enough of a present.”

“As if I was actually going to listen to that.” Brock grins. Jefferson stares at him, incredulous, as Brock pulls a package for one of the high kitchen shelves.

“Brock…” he whines as Brock hands over the gift and places a kiss on the omega’s cheek. “I told you not to…”

“But I wanted to,” Brock smiles. Jefferson’s pouting now, but he does tear open the package, revealing the book inside. A rich red, leather cover, with gold detailing on the sides of the pages. _Shakespeare’s Sonnets_. Jefferson’s breath hitches softly, and he clutches the book to his chest.

“You got it for me?”

Brock nods, laughing when Jefferson rushes into his arms. “Seemed like I should, since you got all starry-eyed when you talked about it.” He’d met Jefferson for lunch the week before and caught him reading the book in the shop. Jefferson had spent almost their whole meal talking about how much he loved it, and Belle had told him she’d caught Jefferson with it more than once. He’d bought it the same day, while Jefferson had been putting his stuff away. “I almost caved and gave it to you early when you came home all pouty because ‘someone’ had bought it.”

Jefferson giggles softly, tilting his head up for a kiss. “Well thank you for saving it for me.”

“You’re welcome, baby,” Brock grins. “I’m glad you like it.”

Jefferson blushes softly, kissing Brock again. 

It’s not long before he’s drifted away from Brock again, showing off his new presents. Brock loves feeling him glow under all the attention, even if part of him wants to be selfish and keep Jefferson close against his side. The pretty smiles Jefferson sends him every few minutes are enough to sustain him for now.

The evening carries on, eventually Brock starts cleaning up on instinct. Natasha rolls her eyes when she notices, but starts helping as well here and there. 

“So how’s it feel, knowing you’re gonna be a daddy?” she teases as she sets a couple plates in the sink.

“Oh god…” Brock mutters, letting out a heavy sigh. “Good, I think.”

“You think?” Natasha raises an eyebrow. Brock shakes his head.

“It’s still kinda surreal, you know?” he shrugs, glancing over at Natasha. “But I am happy.”

“And a little nervous?”

“Who wouldn’t be?” Brock laughs. He looks over to Jefferson, who’s smiling at Jack as they talk. Brock grins at the little flutter in his stomach, that he knows is coming from Jefferson. “But we’ll be fine.”

“I’m sure you will be,” Natasha nods, chuckling softly after a pause. “Someone should take a picture of that.”

She’s following Brock’s gaze, and they both watch as Jack hunches his shoulders and shoves his hands in his pockets, looking like a scolded kid, despite how openly and tenderly Jefferson’s looking at him, as he mumbles something, obviously struggling with whatever it is he’s trying to say. Jefferson seems to have pity, pushing up on the tips of his toes to kiss Jack’s cheek. Brock smirks when Jack gets a little pink and audibly clears his throat, looking down as Jefferson smiles at him again.

Natasha moves away from Brock’s side, and Jefferson quickly goes over to her, leaving Jack to wander up to Brock, who pretends to still be busy with the dishes. 

“Want some help?”

“So now you’re feeling helpful?” Brock chuckles, though he doesn’t protest when Jack starts rinsing off plates and setting them to dry. “So what did you do to earn yourself a kiss?”

“You saw that?” Jack groans.

“You guys weren’t exactly hiding,” Brock laughs. Jack rolls his eyes. Brock pushes an elbow into his ribs. “Come on, ‘fess up.”

“I was tryin’ t’apologize to him…”

Brock looks over at Jack, who’s pointedly looking away. “For what?”

“For what I said a few months back,” Jack shrugs. “Remember? When you hit me…”

“Ordinarily, I’d say ‘which time’, but yeah, I remember,” Brock sighs. “He doesn’t know what you said.”

“I know,” Jack mutters.

“And you thought _now_ was a good time to tell him?”

“I don’t know…” Jack sighs. “I just feel guilty. He didn’t deserve what I said about him.”

Brock nods. It’s not as if he doesn’t agree, but months going by can heal a lot of wounds. “So how’d he take it?”

“Didn’t let me get it out.” Brock frowns, glancing over at Jack again, this time to find the other alpha smiling slightly. “Told me he didn’t care about anything I’d done before, that I should let it go, because he’d already forgiven me.” 

“Well that certainly sounds like him.”

Jack laughs, shaking his head as Brock grins. “You know, that ‘did it hurt when you fell from heaven’ line, I’m convinced it was written about him.”

“I’d believe that,” Brock laughs. Out of the corner of his eye he can see Jefferson on the couch, with Belle and Natasha on either side of him. Natasha has her phone out and seems to be trying to convince Jefferson to let her take a photo of him. Brock has faith in her powers of persuasion, despite Jefferson’s stubbornness. “He really likes you, you know.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean he really likes you,” Brock shrugs. “I think he enjoys flirting with you.”

“I do not flirt–”

“Don’t give me that,” Brock laughs. “Yes, you do.”

Jack rolls his eyes, but doesn’t protest. “He’s cute, what can I say?”

“You don’t have to tell me,” Brock nods. 

“You don’t mind?”

Brock shrugs, shaking his head. “I know how he feels about me, I don’t care if he’s got a little crush on you.”

“Because you know I’m not any competition?” Jack snorts. “It’s not like I date…or hook up with omegas…”

“True,” Brock smirks. “Though I wouldn’t put it past you to make an exception for him.”

“That’s be a pretty big exception,” Jack mutters. “But who knows…” 

“And if you needed a buffer…” Brock smirks. “Well, you were into me that one time.”

“Just because you were the only kinda attractive guy to look twice at me.” 

Brock side-eyes Jack a split second before flicking water at the other alpha, who squawks when his face gets wet. Brock indulges in a laugh at Jack’s expense.

“Do you boys need an intervention?”

Brock sends a cheeky grin over his shoulder at Natasha. “No thanks, mother, we’re good.” The red-head rolls her eyes in response. Jack laughs too, wiping his face on his sleeve before prying the last plate out of Brock’s hand.

“Anyway, maybe we should have this conversation with him, like a year and a half from now, when he’s not pregnant and you’re both out of the precious and beautiful hellscape that is having a newborn.”

“Probably,” Brock laughs. “All I was saying is, flirt all you want. It makes him happy, so no harm done.”

Jack nods, letting a smirk come to his face. “And you like to watch, don’t you?”

“Maybe a little.”

“Pervert.”

Brock snorts. “I’ll gladly aim for your eyes next time.”

“You can try,” Jack grins. “I don’t think you can reach.”

Brock gives it his best shot.

******

It’s late by the time everyone’s left. Jefferson lingers at the door after each goodbye, giving more hugs and even a few kisses. Brock’s putting the last of their leftovers away when Jefferson comes up behind him, wrapping his arms around Brock’s waist.

“Well hello there,” Brock chuckles, turning around in Jefferson’s arms so he can kiss him. Jefferson hums softly as he kisses back, smiling when he pulls away.

“Thank you.”

“For what?” Brock smiles. Jefferson shrugs, rest his head on Brock’s shoulder. 

“For my book,” he murmurs. “For my party, for putting up with having everyone in our home for hours.”

Brock laughs weakly. “Wasn’t so bad,” he sighs. “I’m glad you enjoyed yourself, and your presents.”

He feels Jefferson’s cheeks heat up, and grins at that blooming pink when Jefferson pulls away to push himself up on the counter. “I feel silly for being surprised that everyone actually got me something,” he murmurs, looping his arms around Brock’s neck as the alpha steps between his legs. “Guess I’m just not used to having so many people care about me.”

“I know what you mean,” he sighs. Jefferson’s eyebrows raise, and Brock shrugs. “Jack had me over at his parent’s house for Christmas one year while we were both on leave. I’d never been around a family like that, and I didn’t know how to deal.”

“Because there were so many people?”

“Because there were so many people being polite to me,” Brock sighs, trying to laugh it off as if the memory doesn’t come with an ache in his chest. “I thought I was gonna break down when Jack’s mom hugged me. I kept having to hide in the bathroom to pull myself together.”

When he glances back up, it’s to see Jefferson with wide, watery eyes. “Brock…” he whispers. “That’s really sad…”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” he mutters, hoping to shrug it off. Jefferson doesn’t, his lip starting to quiver. “Come on, beautiful, don’t cry.”

Jefferson pouts softly, just for show, to hide the fact that the tears aren’t going away, still trembling around pale grey irises each time he blinks. “You can’t just tell me something like that and expect me not to be sad…” he mumbles, fidgeting with the buttons on Brock’s shirt.

“M’sorry,” Brock sighs. “I just meant…you know, it stops getting overwhelming after a while. I don’t know if you get used to it–”

“I don’t think I wanna get used to it.”

Brock chuckles, pressing a kiss to Jefferson’s cheek. “Alright, you don’t get used to it,” he smiles. “But you do stop feeling like you’re going to cry every few seconds.”

Jefferson nods, glancing up to smile at Brock. “You never cry.”

“I know,” Brock grins. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t sometimes feel like I need to.”

Jefferson leans his forehead against Brock, sighing softly. “I cry enough for both of us anyway.”

“Well somebody’s gotta do it,” Brock smiles. Jefferson giggles, and Brock catches him in another kiss. His hands grip the omega’s waist, pulling him closer to the edge of the counter. Jefferson giggles again, sweeter this time, letting his fingers run through Brock’s hair.

“Love you.”

“Love you too,” Brock smiles. A glint for Jefferson’s ear catches his eye. “And these are very pretty, aren’t they?”

Jefferson blushes, reaching up to brush his fingers against them. “I still can’t believe he got them for me,” he murmurs. “They’ve got to be a couple hundred dollars.”

“At least,” Brock chuckles. Jefferson whines, chewing his lip. “Baby, it’s fine. Jack’s family has money, he likes getting people nice stuff like that.”

Jefferson raises his eyes back to Brock’s, grinning. “So I’m not special, is that what you’re trying to tell me?”

“No,” Brock laughs. “That’s not what I meant–”

“So I am special?”

“Of course you are,” Brock grins. “Even to Jack.” Jefferson blushes, shaking his head slightly. “Come on, you know he likes you.”

“Hush,” Jefferson whines, blushing brighter. He sighs softly after a moment, touching the earrings again. “He tried to apologize to me today, for whatever he said that made you so angry a few months ago.”

“I saw,” Brock nods. “He really feels bad about it.”

“I know,” Jefferson sighs. “That’s why I don’t want to know whatever it was. I don’t think he’d ever do anything like it again, so I don’t need to be thinking about it now.”

“I think you’re probably right,” Brock smiles. “I’m glad you two like each other. I told Jack today that it’s cute watching you guys flirt.”

Jefferson rolls his eyes. “He’s sweet,” he shrugs, smiling at Brock. “Like you.”

“And you’ve got a crush on him, like you had a crush on me?” Brock grins.

“No,” Jefferson says immediately. Brock raises an eyebrow. 

“Oh?”

Jefferson shrugs. “It’s a different kind of crush, I guess,” he murmurs. “It’s just playful, you know? Kinda gives me butterflies, like when you’re a kid.”

“I never gave you butterflies?” Brock smiles.

“What you did to me was way more than butterflies,” Jefferson giggles. “My whole body would get hot and I felt like I couldn’t breathe. Like the whole world narrowed down to just you…” He blushes softly, and Brock’s hands stroke along the small of his back. “Still hits me sometimes, and it’s more overwhelming now, after everything.”

Jefferson’s voice is so soft… Brock finds himself leaning in, until Jefferson’s head tips up and their lips meet. Jefferson moans softly and Brock holds him tighter, letting his kisses drift across Jefferson’s jaw.

“Love you,” he mutters.

“Love you too,” Jefferson giggles. He cards his hands through Brock’s hair, twisting some of the longer locks around his fingers. “But Jack is cute.”

Brock barks a laugh, nuzzling into Jefferson’s neck until the omega giggles. “Not the word I’d use,” he smirks. “But he does have that nice scar on his chin. Bet you’re into it.”

“Maybe so,” Jefferson simpers. “So what word would you use?”

Brock hums in thought, leaning back to smirk at Jefferson. “Rugged,” he decides after a moment.“In a good way.”

“I’d agree with that.” Jefferson smiles. 

“Though, back when he and I were hooking up, cute was the better word,” Brock chuckles. “He’s definitely gotten better with age.”

Jefferson giggles again, a brilliant blush lighting up his face. He opens his mouth like he wants to say something, but nothing comes out. Brock grins.

“What?”

“Nothing,” Jefferson giggles.

“That smile isn’t nothing.”

Jefferson rolls his eyes. “It’s just funny…you two, like that…I don’t know how to picture it.”

“You’ve been trying to picture it?” Brock snorts. Jefferson shrugs, and Brock breaks into laughter again. “Damn…I didn’t think you had it in you, beautiful.”

“Shut up,” Jefferson giggles. “I just find myself wondering sometimes…”

“Of course,” Brock nods. He bites his lip when Jefferson looks down, still blushing. “Well he’s a big guy, as you may have noticed. And he likes to use that to his advantage.”

“Why am I not surprised?” Jefferson smiles. “So he was…calling the shots, most of the time?”

“That’s one way to put it,” Brock chuckles. 

“And you liked that?”

Jefferson’s voice has gone soft again, almost shy as he glances up through his eyelashes. Brock shrugs. “I like most things when it comes to sex,” he sighs. “I go with the flow, what can I say?” 

Jefferson nods, but doesn’t look convinced. “Do you mind that we only ever make love one way?”

“Of course not,” Brock sighs. “And I wouldn’t agree that we only do it one way.”

“You know what I mean,” Jefferson mutters.

“Yeah, I do,” Brock nods. “But I still don’t mind. It’s the way we make love, it’s doesn’t need to be anything else.” He smiles, slipping his thumb underneath Jefferson’s shirt to stroke against his skin. “And I’m far from bored.”

Finally, a smile comes back to Jefferson’s face, and he clamps his teeth over his lip as he looks at Brock. “What if I wanna try something different?”

“You should know I’m always willing,” Brock smiles back. “It is your birthday, after all.”

Jefferson laughs, glancing down as he begins to unbutton Brock’s shirt, slowly working his way up. “I don’t know if I’m all that adventurous…”

“You don’t have to be,” Brock murmurs. When Jefferson pushes at his shirt, Brock slips it off effortlessly, tossing it over the counter. “All yours, baby, whatever you want.”

Jefferson’s still chewing his lip as he lets his hands slide down Brock’s chest. Soft, pretty hands, with that ring Brock would know anywhere. He relishes how it catches on his skin when Jefferson draws him in for a kiss. He groans when Jefferson’s nails bite into his sides and the omega’s teeth take hold of his lip, tugging just for a moment.

“You like that, right?” Jefferson asks softly. When Brock nods, he shifts a little closer, dragging his nails down the alpha’s back this time. Brock shudders at the burn in his skin. “You like it on your back too?”

“Yeah, beautiful,” Brock smiles, pressing a kiss to Jefferson’s lips. “It’s kinda hot when you’re taking control.” 

Jefferson tries to hide his blush by leaning closer and kissing Brock’s neck, but Brock can feel the heat on his skin. He moans when Jefferson’s teeth cover his bondmark, heat washing over him. Jefferson purrs softly and Brock smiles as slides his hands further under the omega’s shirt.

Much to his surprise, however, his hands get pushed away, and Jefferson smirks when Brock looks up at him. “No touching,” he giggles. Brock raises his hands in surrender. 

“Yes, sir.”

Jefferson laughs again, trailing his feather-light touches down Brock’s arms and intertwining their fingers as he hops off the counter. Brock expects to be led into the bedroom, but Jefferson just steps behind him. Brock chuckles when the omega guides his hands to rest against the counter, and presses against him, warm through the thin fabric of his shirt.

“Want me to bend over for you?” Brock grins. Jefferson crowds him against the counter, but Brock can feel his skin getting hotter.

“No,” Jefferson murmurs, just before his lips press softly to the back of Brock’s neck. Brock lets his eyes close as the kisses continue across his shoulder. His hands grip the counter more tightly on instinct, and Jefferson giggles. “I can’t believe I never realized how much you like this…”

“Well I’m not always honest about it,” Brock murmurs, biting his lip to stifle a groan when Jefferson’s teeth graze his skin. 

“So how many people have known?” he asks. 

“Just two,” Brock smiles. Jefferson bites him again, and this time he doesn’t hold back his moan. 

“So that’s…me,” Jefferson murmurs, dragging his nails along Brock lower back. “And I bet I can guess who the other is.”

Brock chuckles, sighing and letting his head fall forward as Jefferson sucks at the back of his neck. “He liked having me on my front, and he’s a biter. Didn’t take him long to figure it out.”

“Of course,” Jefferson laughs. “I guess I’m just selfish.”

“I think I’m the one that’s selfish,” Brock grins. “I like seeing you underneath me.”

Jefferson hums softly, and Brock feels his kisses trail lower and lower, until the omega’s hand tugs at his, turning him around. He finds Jefferson on his knees, looking up at him with beautiful, bright eyes. He presses a kiss to the center of Brock’s palm and Brock doesn’t hesitate to brush his fingers against the omega’s cheek. Jefferson leans into the touch, his lashes fluttering prettily.

“You like this better, don’t you?” Brock smiles. Jefferson blushes, but nods slowly, shifting closer.

“I guess it feels more natural,” he murmurs, hooking his fingers through Brock belt loops. “But I do like hearing you moan.”

“Well there are plenty of ways to do that,” Brock chuckles, cupping Jefferson’s chin and brushing his thumb over those still brilliantly red lips. “Wanna see just how well this color holds up?”

A grin spreads on Jefferson’s face, and a giggle bubbles up from his throat. “Only if we move to the bedroom first,” he replies. “Tile isn’t very comfortable.”

Brock pulls Jefferson up without hesitation, scooping the omega into his arms. “Better?”

“Much,” Jefferson nods, clinging to Brock as they head down the hall. “Only a few more months before you won’t be able to hold be like this anymore.”

“Well then I guess it’s a good thing I’m taking advantage while I can,” Brock chuckles. He sets Jefferson down once they’re in the bedroom, keeping him pressed close for a luxurious kiss, soft and warm as their lips and tongues move together. 

“I’m glad you had fun today,” Brock murmurs.

“I’m glad you had some fun too,” Jefferson nods. His teeth play on his lip cutely once more, fending off a smirk. “Are you ready to have a little more?” As if Brock would ever say no.

Natasha hadn’t been kidding about whatever she put on Jefferson’s lips. Even when everything else starts to fade and smear, sweat turning Jefferson into a beautifully ruined image, that red just keeps glowing, making his perfect mouth into a perfect rosebud for Brock’s plucking.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And after a month…good lord…finally another chapter. I hope you all enjoy!

Brock awakes on a cloudy November day to the sound of his phone buzzing on the bedside table. He’d gotten up to see Jefferson off to work that morning, but after a late shift, his bed had seemed a little too inviting once the omega had left. He’d ended up crawling right back under the covers for a few more hours of rest. His phone tells him it’s now mid-morning when he picks it up, and he smiles at the sight of Jefferson’s name on the screen. 

“Hey, baby,” he mumbles, his face half-pressed into Jefferson’s sweet-scented pillow.

“Brock?”

Brock recognizes Belle’s voice instantly and shoots up in bed, pulling the blanket over him as if Belle’s actually in the room to judge him on the fact that he’s half-naked. Another second to pull his mind together, and all of a sudden he can hear his own heartbeat pounding in his ears. Why is Belle calling him on Jefferson’s phone?

“It’s Belle.”

“What happened?” 

“Everything’s fine,” Belle says quickly. Brock almost believes her. Jefferson’s not in distress. Brock would feel it if he was, wouldn’t he?“I swear, everything’s ok, Jefferson just had a little fainting spell.”

Brock nearly falls out of bed, scrambling for clothes. “Is he alright?” Jefferson had wanted to walk to work that morning. Said he was feeling fine—

“He is, I promise, everything’s alright,” Belle says again. “Lucky for him, Wanda was the one he was helping when he fainted.” 

Brock can spare a moment to be grateful for that. They’d talked to Wanda only a couple weeks prior about having her be Jefferson’s midwife. ‘Lucky’ is definitely the word for it. “And she said he’s fine?”

“She checked him out, and says he probably just got a little dehydrated,” Belle says. Brock’s stomach twists, tying itself in an ugly knot. Jefferson only had tea and a little fruit that morning. Brock should’ve insisted… “She’s sitting with him now while he lays down, making sure he gets something to drink.”

“Good,” Brock murmurs, trying to force the anxious tremor out of his voice. Jefferson’s ok, everything’s ok… “Do I need to come get him?”

Belle sighs, and Brock immediately knows the answer is yes. “He’s still feeling a bit poorly, and Wanda wants him to rest.”

Brock nods, as if Belle could see that. “I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

“Alright,” Belle replies. “Take care.”

“You too,” Brock sighs. “And…”

“Yes?”

Brock sighs again. “Tell him I love him.”

“I will,” Belle chuckles softly.

Brock smiles a little until he hears the line click off. Then it’s back to throwing on clothes, grabbing keys and getting out to his car as fast as he can.

He should’ve insisted on driving Jefferson. He can help but think it, even if he knows ‘insisting’ wouldn’t have worked against his stubborn mate, who’s been even more prickly lately. Brock still should’ve insisted. Or at least insisted that Jefferson eat more than he had before going, or take a bottle of water with him…

He shakes his head. He’s at a red light, infuriatingly enough, but it at least it affords him the opportunity to drop his head down against the steering wheel. There’s nothing he can do about it now, except bring Jefferson home and make sure he’s alright. 

The light can’t turn green fast enough.

Belle’s there to greet him when he enters the shop, ushering him inside.

“That was fast,” she smiles. Brock gives a half-hearted chuckle. When is he not a reckless driver for Jefferson’s sake?

“Is he in the back?” 

“Upstairs, in our apartment,” Belle says. “I thought he’d be more comfortable.”

“Thank you,” Brock sighs, having to hold himself back from running to find Jefferson. 

Belle leads him to the back of the shelf, then up a flight of stairs. As soon as they’ve arrived at the top, Brock’s eyes fix on Jefferson. 

The omega’s laid out on a couch with Wanda next to him, holding his hand. Grey eyes, previously closed, flutter open as soon as Brock sets foot on the landing, and air rushes into Brock's lungs like he’s just broken through water after nearly drowning. Jefferson’s chest rises too, in a mirrored gasp. 

Brock almost trips in his rush across the room.

“Hey, beautiful,” he whispers as soon as Jefferson’s within reach. Jefferson smiles back at him with bright eyes and color in his cheeks. He’s ok, he’s really ok. Brock feels silly for needing to see it, but it seems he did…

“Hi, sweetheart,” Jefferson murmurs. He sits up, but obviously it’s too quick a movement, because he wavers, eyes squeezing shut with a weak groan. Brock’s hands grip Jefferson’s shoulders, and Wanda even reaches for him as well. 

“Easy,” Brock murmurs, cupping Jefferson’s cheek gently. He glances at Wanda, who nods, retracting her hand when Jefferson shifts forward again, curling into Brock.

“I know, I know,” Jefferson sighs. Brock has to stifle a shiver when Jefferson’s lips brush against his bondmark. “Wanda’s been scolding me.”

“Only because they’re things you need to hear,” Wanda smiles before shifting her gaze to Brock. “I’ve just been reminding him that he needs more water than he thinks, especially once he starts moving into his second and third trimesters.”

“I’ll be sure to bother him about it,” Brock nods, running his fingers through soft curls when he feels Jefferson huff against his neck. 

“Not my fault that I don’t want to have to go to the bathroom every five minutes,” he mumbles.

“I’m afraid it comes with the territory,” Wanda sighs. She’s toying with her necklace now, two star pendants side-by-side, one with five points, one with six. Brock hears Belle shift uncertainly behind him as well. He knows they can feel how badly he wants to be alone with Jefferson. If only he could find it in him to apologize for that.

“I should be going now,” Wanda finally says, reaching out to rest her hand on Jefferson’s back once more, and smiling when the omega turns his head to look up at her. “You take care of yourself, alright? Rest tonight, and you should feel better tomorrow.”

“I will,” Jefferson sighs, and Brock smiles when Jefferson nuzzles his neck “Brock will make sure of it.”

“What else am I here for?” Brock chuckles. Wanda smiles softly, rubbing Jefferson’s back for just another moment.

“In that case, I’ll be seeing you in a couple weeks for your next appointment,” she says as she stands, tucking her shawl around her shoulders.

“Right,” Jefferson nods. “And thanks for everything.”

“Thank you,” Brock mirrors.

“It’s no trouble,” Wanda smiles, her fingers dancing through a graceful wave as she heads for the stairs. Belle points her in the direction of the way out before sending a smile towards Brock and Jefferson.

“Take all the time you need,” she says, following Wanda down the stairs. As soon as Brock hears the door click shut behind them, it’s as if a weight lifts off him, and he can’t help but let out a long sigh, holding Jefferson close.

“You’re really ok?” he murmurs.

“I’m really ok,” Jefferson laughs, leaning back. At just over two months pregnant, he’s barely starting to show, but Brock’s hand can still effortlessly find the little swell in his lower belly. Jefferson smiles, sweet and pretty. “You were scared for me?”

“Are you kidding?” Brock laughs. “Of course I was.” 

“I’m sorry,” Jefferson sighs. Brock shakes his head, leaning in for a kiss that he feels Jefferson smile into.

“Don’t be like that, I’m just glad you’re alright,” he murmurs. “Besides, I needed to get my ass out of bed anyway.”

“I can tell,” Jefferson smirks. “You haven’t even brushed your teeth today.”

He bursts into giggles as soon as he says it, and Brock groans.

“Fuck…” he mutters, laughing to when Jefferson’s head thumps against his chest. Jefferson’s still vibrating with giggles. It’s infectious, always is. “Guess I missed that step while I was rushing out here to get you.”

“Well, I won’t tell if you won’t,” Jefferson grins. 

“Deal,” Brock nods, pressing his lips to Jefferson’s forehead this time. “Ready to go?”

“Yeah,” Jefferson nods. “My bag—”

Brock already reaching down for Jefferson’s messenger bag once he sees it next to the couch. Jefferson tries to take it from him, but Brock just throws it over his shoulder.

“I’m not completely useless, you know,” Jefferson pouts.

“I know,” Brock smiles, holding his hand out for Jefferson to take. “Just humor me.”

Jefferson rolls his eyes but is more than willing to lean against Brock as they stand. Brock makes sure it’s slow, so Jefferson doesn’t get a head rush, and nervousness pricks in his stomach when Jefferson sighs heavily.

“You good?”

“Yeah,” Jefferson murmurs. “Ready to be in my own bed.”

Brock nods. “Hungry?”

“Always,” Jefferson laughs, resting his head against Brock’s shoulder as they head down the stairs. “So maybe the fridge, then the bed.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Brock chuckles. 

Belle waves at them as they pass by her on the way to the door, and Jefferson calls a thank you to her over Brock’s shoulder. He spends the majority of the car ride home with his eyes closed, squeezing Brock’s hand tightly. He doesn’t say it, but Brock knows he’s nauseated.

“Sorry…” he murmurs.

“Not your fault,” Jefferson sighs. He heads straight for the bedroom as soon as they’re home. 

“You really should eat something,” Brock sighs as he follows Jefferson in. 

“I know,” Jefferson whines, shrugging off his sweater and kicking off his shoes before crawling under the blankets. Brock chuckles when he sees his pillow getting stolen, buried under Jefferson’s curls. 

“If I bring something in here will you eat it?”

“Probably,” Jefferson mumbles. “But you better hurry or I’ll fall asleep first.” Brock snorts, smiling all the way to the kitchen.

Jefferson’s sudden affinity for pineapple is apparently something that’s here to stay, and it’s accompanied—much to Brock’s stifled dismay—but a craving for cheese. Blue cheese, to be exact, and the more it stinks, the better. Some of it is bad enough to make Brock’s eyes water, but Jefferson eats it the way he used to go after sweets.

If Brock wants to coax a reluctant Jefferson into eating, cheese is his best bet. Mixed with a few other options to keep Brock’s nose from too much suffering.

The omega’s sits up as soon as Brock re-enters the bedroom, his eyes lighting up as he draws in a deep breath.

“I thought that would get your attention,” Brock chuckles when Jefferson eagerly reaches for the plate and glass Brock offers him. It doesn’t take any more convincing for Jefferson to start eating, moaning as soon as he takes his first bite.

“You know me so well,” Jefferson giggles, going after the drink Brock’s offered him next. His eyes light up, and another bright hum escapes him. “Pineapple?” Brock just grins, shaking his head when Jefferson giggles and dives in for another bite.

“I don’t know how you eat that stuff,” Brock mutters. Jefferson shrugs, sucking his fingers clean.

“I don’t know how I ever went without it,” he smiles. “But you hate the smell, don’t you?”

“‘Fraid so,” Brock chuckles. “But I’ll live.”

“Sorry.”

“Baby…” Brock sighs, leaning in to kiss Jefferson’s cheek. “It’s not a big deal. You’re making a person, you can eat whatever you like.”

“Sweetheart,” Jefferson cooes, leaning back against the headboard, downing another large sip of his drink. Brock rolls his eyes.

“Well at least it looks like you’re feeling better.”

“I am,” Jefferson nods. He picks up a strawberry before setting his plate to the side, his lips tinting red as he bites into the fruit. “A lot better.”

Brock grins as Jefferson moves closer, chuckling when their noses bump together. “Not so concerned anymore about whether or not I’ve brushed my teeth?”

“Never said I was concerned,” Jefferson murmurs. He pops the other half of his strawberry in his mouth, close enough now that Brock can almost taste it himself. 

“Wanda said you needed to rest,” he murmurs. Jefferson pouts, winding his arms around Brock’s neck.

“I’m hormonal, humor me.”

Brock snorts, right before Jefferson’s lips touch his. His mate’s sweetness envelopes him as he’s pulled forward into the bed, and he feels a groan slip out of him, vibrating against Jefferson’s lips. 

“Really, we shouldn’t,” he mumbles, but Jefferson’s hands are in his hair, and the omega’s legs are spread, squeezing Brock’s hips.

“Why not?” Jefferson mewls.

“Because you need to rest.”

“I don’t wanna rest.”

Jefferson’s lips are moving along his jaw now, and Brock groans again. “It’s the middle of the day…”

It’s a bad excuse that completely deserves the way Jefferson laughs at it. He tugs at the collar of Brock’s shirt until he can get his mouth on Brock’s bondmark and Brock moans this time. On instinct, his lips find the matching mark on Jefferson’s shoulder. 

“Why should we rise because 'tis light? Did we lie down because t'was night?”

Brock smiles at the rhyme in Jefferson’s soft voice, leaning back to see grey eyes shimmer at him. “Pretty,” he murmurs. “Where’d you read it?”

“That book you gave me for my birthday,” Jefferson giggles. “Everything in there is so beautiful…”

“I bet,” Brock nods. It’s something Jefferson loves, why wouldn’t it be beautiful? “You memorize anything else?”

Jefferson grins, his hands gliding through Brock’s hair, drawing him in closer again, until his lips can brush against Brock’s ear. His voice is a low purr as he begins to recite lilting lines of poetry. “Being your slave, what should I do but tend upon the hours and times of your desire? I have no precious time at all to spend, Nor services to do, till you require.”

Brock draws in a shaky breath, tipping his head to press his lips to Jefferson’s cheek. If he didn’t know otherwise, he’d believe that Jefferson had written the words himself. He says them like he means every syllable. Jefferson hums softly, nuzzling into Brock’s hair.

“Nor dare I chide the world-without-end hour, whilst I, my sovereign, watch the clock for you, nor think the bitterness of absence sour, when you have bid your servant once adieu.”

Jefferson’s hands are sliding under Brock’s shirt now, pushing it up, and off when Brock obliges and raises his arms. He’s over Jefferson now, looking down at the omega’s softly flushed face. Jefferson’s hands slide back down his chest, and Brock shudders, bringing a grin to Jefferson’s face.

“Nor dare I question with my jealous thought where you may be, or your affairs suppose,” he whispers. His fingers slip in Brock’s waistband, easily popping the button and dragging down the zipper. “But, like a sad slave, stay and think of nought, save where you are, how happy you make those.”

Brock groans when a soft hand slips inside to wrap around his length, and Jefferson giggles, his free hand cupping Brock’s head to bring him down again. More pretty words float from pretty lips between gentle kisses.

“So true a fool is love that in your will, though you do anything, he thinks no ill.” 

Jefferson punctuates the final line with a little nip that has Brock grinning. “Very pretty,” he murmurs, moaning when Jefferson’s hands gives a little squeeze between his legs. “A little sad though.”

“You think so?” Jefferson hums, sliding his hand back up Brock’s chest.

“I guess,” Brock shrugs. “I hope you don’t really think of yourself as a slave.”

Jefferson rolls his eyes. “Only as much as I want to be,” he smiles. “Besides, maybe you’re my slave.”

“Now that’s definitely true,” Brock chuckles. Jefferson giggles too, and before Brock can say another word, Jefferson’s hand in back between his legs, stroking slowly. 

“So are you gonna make me recite more poetry? Or are you gonna give me something better to do?”

“I think I might be able to come up with something,” Brock grins. He reaches for the delicate little buttons at the top of Jefferson’s blouse. He pops one, then another, then another, but before he can get any further down, Jefferson’s hand nudges him away. Brock just nods, placing kisses on the few inches of skin Jefferson has allowed him access to.

It isn’t a new thing for Jefferson to keep his shirt on when they make love. His body is changing fast, making his chest full and soft. He complains about being sore, but Brock’s pretty sure it’s about more than just that. 

He keeps his kisses gentle, brushing them against the hollow of Jefferson’s throat and just under his collarbone. Even there he can feel where the omega’s chest begins to swell, but despite his curiosity, his trails his kisses over Jefferson’s shirt, down the center of his chest, only pushing fabric out of his way once he’s level with Jefferson’s belly. 

Jefferson has absolutely no problems with being kissed there; he mewls sweetly as soon as Brock’s lips make contact with his skin, and Brock wastes no time peppering nips and pecks over his omega’s belly. His hand glides down Jefferson’s thigh, then back up to press between his legs, and Jefferson moans at the pressure.

“God, get them off,” he mutters, tugging at the button on his pants until Brock takes over. “They’ve been squeezing me all day.”

“Well that’s not good,” Brock laughs, quickly pulling the offending fabric down Jefferson’s legs and tossing it away. Jefferson lets out a sigh of relief, rubbing over the red lines the pants left in his skin. Brock frowns. “Really not good…”

“They’ve always been tight,” Jefferson shrugs. 

“You’re gonna need new stuff eventually,” Brock murmurs, passing his lips over those harsh lines.

“I know,” he sighs. “I’ve been putting it off.”

“Well maybe we should take care of that this weekend?”

“Maybe we should,” Jefferson nods. He tips his head so he can look down at Brock, threading his fingers through Brock’s hair. “Are you gonna let me drag you around to look at baby stuff, too?”

“I think I could muddle through,” Brock snorts. Jefferson’s giggle turns into a moan when Brock’s head dips between his legs again, lip caressing his thighs and the hard flesh hidden by his underwear.

“Fuck…” 

Brock chuckles softly, and Jefferson whimpers as Brock’s lip vibrate against him. Brock takes it as encouragement, humming as he passes his lips up and down the length of Jefferson’s cock. The omega trembles, hands tugging at Brock’s hair as a needy gasp escapes him.

“Come on,” he moans. “Get them off.”

Brock just chuckles again, hooking his fingers in the waistband Jefferson’s underwear and starting to drag them slowly down those infinite legs. Jefferson whines, kicking the offending article away, clearly having none of Brock’s slow pace.

“Don’t tease,” he pouts, tugging Brock back up for a kiss the alpha happily gives him, groaning at the taste of strawberry still lingering on his mate’s lips. “I want you in me.”

“Anything you want,” Brock purrs.

Jefferson’s eyes are dark as he pushes Brock onto his back, yanking down his jeans and throwing them to the floor. Brock tries to roll on top of Jefferson again, but the omega just presses him into the mattress, smirking as he throws his perfect, long leg across Brock’s body, straddling him with a toss of his hair that Brock knows is all for show.

“Really?” he grins. Jefferson shrugs, blowing a few stray curls out of his face.

“You’re gonna be all worried about me,” he says. Roses bloom in his cheeks as he eases down onto Brock’s cock, moaning sweetly. “I’m not interested in having you be a gentleman.”

“Yes, sir,” Brock laughs. He doesn’t have a chance to get another word out before Jefferson starts to move. Up and down, back and forth, rolling and circling his hips and moaning every moment. Brock holds his omega’s waist, thrusting up to match each of Jefferson’s movements, but he knows he’s just along for the ride. Has been since Jefferson got pregnant. 

Jefferson leans forward and his shirt slips off one shoulder, exposing a milky collarbone. He presses forward, his hands braced on Brock’s shoulders and Brock’s eyes fix on the spot where the curves of Jefferson’s chest meet, pink and soft and _fuck_ Brock wishes Jefferson would let him touch. Or even just let him look…

But Jefferson leans back, tugging his shirt up so he’s covered again, huffing in annoyance. Brock sighs, ignoring the uneasy tug in their stomachs as he reaches for Jefferson’s hands. His mate’s unhappy, his mate’s embarrassed. He hates it, but there’s not a damn thing he can do until Jefferson’s ready to talk.

Jefferson lets himself be pushed onto his back, moaning as Brock covers his cheeks and neck with kisses. 

“It’s ok, you know,” Brock murmurs. “You don’t have to cover—”

“Shut up,” Jefferson mutters. Brock leans back to see Jefferson tugging up his shirt again. “I don’t want to talk about it,” he sighs.

Brock nods. “You wanna stop?”

“No,” Jefferson says quickly. “Please, I just don’t want to think about it, about anything.”

“Ok,” Brock murmurs the word against Jefferson’s lips, and before he knows it he’s being drawn in again. Jefferson’s nails drag up his back until he groans, and Jefferson cries out when he thrusts forward. It harder than he intends, but Jefferson won’t allow him to ease up. Legs wrap around his waist, bringing him in over and over, until he’s groaning with every pull and push. Jefferson’s whining too, pleading without words, and all it takes is for Brock to reach between Jefferson’s legs, stroking once, twice, before Jefferson’s throwing his head back with a cry.

Brock follows close behind, with Jefferson’s hands petting his hair and warm lips pressed to his temple. His knot doesn’t swell this time, but Jefferson doesn’t seem to mind, nuzzling softly into Brock’s hair as they catch their breath.

They let out a long sigh together as Brock rolls off Jefferson and onto his side. Fabric blocks his way when he tries to brush his lips against Jefferson’s shoulder, but the omega just gathers his shirt closed, chewing his lip as he fidgets with fastening the buttons again.

“Baby…” Brock sighs. 

“Still don’t wanna talk about it,” Jefferson mutters. 

It’s silent for a moment, just their breath to fill the quiet. There’s anxiety churning in Jefferson’s stomach, Brock can feel it making him nauseated.

“I think I need a bra.”

The only thing that keeps Brock from laughing at Jefferson’s deadpan voice is the unhappiness his can feel pressing down against his mate’s chest. He turns his head to see Jefferson staring at the ceiling, eyes narrow and sad. Brock just nods.

“We’ll put it on the list.”

******

Jefferson’s on edge for the next few days, but at least he doesn’t suffer from another fainting spell.

That may have something to do with the fact that Brock starts tucking snacks and water bottles into Jefferson’s bag, just to make sure he doesn’t forget. Jefferson whines about Brock being too fussy, but he knows his mate is grateful. He feels the little sparks of happiness during the day when Jefferson discovers what Brock has packed for him.

But happy sparks are a far cry from the cloud hanging over Jefferson by the time Sunday rolls around. 

It probably does nothing for Jefferson’s mood that he starts the day hanging over the toilet. By the time he actually makes it to the kitchen, he doesn’t do anything but groan at the plate Brock sets in front of him.

“You’ll feel worse later if you don’t eat anything,” Brock sighs.

“I know!” Jefferson snaps. But the cloud breaks after just a moment and Jefferson reaches for his teacup. “I’m sorry, I know…” he mumbles into the cup.

“It’s alright,” Brock shrugs. “I know you’re nervous—”

“No I’m not.”

Brock shakes his head as Jefferson rushes through the words. “Baby, I know you are, I can feel it.”

Jefferson’s curls hide his face as he ducks his head, his hand coming up to press against his forehead. His delicate ring sparkles between his fingers, inviting Brock to reach out and grasp them. Jefferson’s eyes raise, and he even smiles when Brock squeezes his hand gently.

“What’s got you nervous?”

Jefferson’s shoulder hunch up in a shrug, his eyes finding the opposite wall. “I don’t know,” he murmurs, and when Brock starts to stroke the back of his hand, he pulls away, eyes still fixed on the wall.

Brock bites the inside of his cheek, a real pain to quash the one in his chest. Sometimes it’s hard to tell what’s coming from Jefferson and what he’s feeling himself, especially when he suspects they might be feeling the same thing at the same time.

“Are you…embarrassed?” That seems like a good word for the burning discomfort in his stomach. Jefferson folds his arms over his chest, but nods eventually. At least it’s something. “I mean, we knew things were gonna change,” he says, in an attempt to be comforting. An unsuccessful attempt, as it turns out.

“I know,” Jefferson huffs. “It just…things are happening faster this time. My body’s changing more than I remember…”

“Well that can happen, right?”

“Every pregnancy is different,” Jefferson parrots, his voice empty as he rolls his eyes. “Doesn’t mean it’s not weird.” The word doesn’t seem to do justice to the weight hanging over his mate’s heart, but Brock nods again as he watches Jefferson rest his hand over his belly, rubbing gently.

“So is that gonna be our first stop?”

“Yeah,” Jefferson nods. “I just want to get it over with.”

“Understandable,” Brock sighs. “But not until I see you eat something.”

“Oh my god,” Jefferson mutters, slouching forward and grabbing for the banana Brock set on his plate. He shoves half the thing into his mouth in one go and Brock bursts into laughter as Jefferson’s cheeks bulge around his mouthful. “Better?” he mumbles.

“Much,” Brock manages through his laughing. Jefferson just rolls his eyes, not laughing along, but really, it’s probably for the best that he keeps his mouth closed for now.

Unfortunately, the levity doesn’t last long once they’re in the car. Jefferson stays silent, with his arms stay curled around his stomach the whole way to the store, the same place he’s always goes to get his lingerie. Brock’s only been there once—back when he bought Jefferson his pair of red stockings—but he remembers the way.

Jefferson’s lets out a long breath once they’re finally parked, uneasiness pricking in Brock’s stomach. “Doing ok?” he asks softly. Jefferson shrugs.

“I guess…”

Despite his own concern burning a hole in Brock’s stomach, he tries to smile when Jefferson looks over at him. “Can’t be all that different from buying panties or stockings, right?” 

It’s a bad attempt, but Jefferson gives a weak smile even so. A reward for trying. “I know it shouldn’t be,” he murmurs. “But it just is.”

Brock can only nod, reaching for Jefferson’s hand so he can press a light kiss to it. “Guess we need to bite the bullet, even so.”

“I guess,” Jefferson repeats. Brock wishes their bond was somehow strong enough for him to just crawl inside Jefferson’s mind and kick out whatever is making his mate upset.

The inside of the store is so perfectly Jefferson that Brock can’t help a little chuckle. Bright colored silk and pastel lace, interspersed with the perfect amount of deeper, darker colors in satins and velvets, glinting with crystal. 

“Hi there!”

Brock barely manages not to jump at the sudden, loud greeting, which he quickly realizes was not directed at him. A small blond omega with a nametag that reads ‘Tyler’ is beaming at Jefferson, and Brock lets his arm slip from around Jefferson’s shoulders so the two omegas can kiss cheeks.

“I haven’t see you in forever!” Tyler grins. 

“I know it has been awhile,” Jefferson nods, blushing softly.

“And is this…?” he trails off, but Jefferson’s smiles, wrapping his arms around Brock’s.

“Brock,” he finishes for Tyler. “My mate.” Brock’s almost blinded by the new lightness in him, but he couldn’t be more grateful. Anything to bring the sun back to Jefferson’s face.

“Your mate?” Tyler repeats, beaming somehow brighter than before. “Congratulations! When did that happen?”

“Just a couple months ago,” Jefferson says, with a little giggle in his voice. Tyler nods.

“But you guys have been together for a while, right?”

“About a year,” Brock replies, reluctantly pulling one hand out of its safe home in his pocket, to have it eagerly clasped and shaken by two very tiny ones. For someone who’s barely over five feet tall, Tyler has one hell of a grip.

“I’m surprised I haven’t met you sooner,” Tyler chuckles, releasing Brock’s hand. “Every time Jefferson’s here, I can’t get him to shut up about you.”

“Oh stop!” Jefferson whines, but Brock just chuckles. 

“Why am I not surprised?” 

It earns him an elbow in the ribs, but it’s worth it to see Jefferson blush and roll his eyes dramatically. Tyler seems to enjoy the show too, giggling softly.

“I’m Tyler, by the way,” he smiles. “So, what can I do for you today?”

Instantly, Jefferson’s unease is back, and Brock stifles a sigh as he watches Jefferson chew his lip. 

“I actually…um…” he trails off, the pink in his cheeks turning to a deep red as his voice drops to a whisper. “I-I need a bra…”

“I think we can manage that,” Tyler nods slowly, a little smile spreading on his face. “I don’t mean to be bold,” he murmurs. “But are you pregnant, by any chance?” Jefferson nods, and Tyler’s smile turns into a grin. “Let me guess, two months along?” 

“Yeah,” Jefferson giggles. “We weren’t trying but…”

“You got lucky,” Tyler chuckles. “Well congratulations again, and you’ve got nothing to be embarrassed about.”

“Right,” Jefferson sighs. Tyler’s reassurances seem to have fallen on deaf ears, and he can tell, because his bright smile falters ever-so-slightly.

“Well, let’s get you to the back so I can measure you and bring you some options,” he says, pointing towards the sign that says dressing rooms. Jefferson nods, holding tight to Brock’s hand as they walk back.

The dressing rooms’ walls are pale blue, with white doors on each stall. Calming. They both need it. Jefferson looks at Brock sheepishly once Tyler unlocks one of the stalls for him, but he doesn’t have to ask. Brock just kisses his hand lightly before letting go, seating himself on a bench while Jefferson and Tyler disappear inside.

He can still hear them chatting, more congratulations, questions about where Jefferson wants to deliver, what symptoms he’s been having, anecdotes about Tyler’s own pregnancies—he’s had two, apparently—and even a question about whether or not they’ve picked out a name.

The way Jefferson stumbles over answering that last one makes Brock think Jefferson does have something in mind. He’ll have to ask later; they are going to need a name after all.

Then the voices go quiet, and Brock has to force himself to not try and eavesdrop. He’s not technically part of the conversation, it’s not really his business…

Tyler’s bright voice returns moments later, saying he’ll be right back, and the door opens soon after. Tyler flashes Brock a smile before turning on his heel towards the store.

He can only assume Jefferson’s still pulling on his clothes, so he stays put for a few moments, listening to the rustle of fabric. But the pit in his stomach tells him things aren’t nearly as peaceful as the quiet would have him believe.

“How ya doing in there?” he calls softly.

“Fine,” Jefferson whispers, with a hitch in his voice that immediately tells Brock he’s lying. A beat passes. Jefferson’s breath hitches again, and Brock feels his chest ache.

“Can I come in?”

“Y-yeah…”

Brock’s through the door as soon as he hears the lock click open. Jefferson’s sitting on the little bench in the corner of the room, his sweater clutched to his chest. With nothing but a little tank top on, it’s more of Jefferson’s upper body than Brock been allowed to see in weeks.

Jefferson tries to smile, but it barely lasts a moment, his breath catching in his throat and his lips twisting into a little frown. Brock kneels down in front of him, and Jefferson’s hands tighten on his sweater when Brock rests his own on the omega’s knees. He feels like he’s asked it a thousand times this week alone, but he still can’t help asking one more time.

“Are you ok?”

Jefferson nods, one twitch down, then back up. But his eyes don’t raise with his head, and his lip starts to quiver, pink pooling under his eyes and around his nose. He gives a weak sniffle, and finally shakes his head.

“What’s wrong, beautiful?”

He doesn’t get an answer. Jefferson’s face screws up in a sob and tears fall onto his cheeks before he can get another word out. He presses his face into his sweater, muffling another quaking sob as Brock gathers him into his arms. It takes all of a few seconds before Brock’s feel hot breath and wetness against his shoulder, once Jefferson decides to cling to him instead of the bundle of fabric still pressed between them.

“Baby, please tell me what’s wrong,” Brock begs. “Talk to me, beautiful, what’s going on?”

“I’m n-not.”

Brock frowns, holding Jefferson closer. “You’re not…gonna tell me?” he tries.

“No,” Jefferson shakes his head, his hands bunching in Brock’s jacket as he chokes on another sob. “Beautiful. I’m n-not beautiful.”

Brock has to close his eyes for a moment as he lets out a sigh, pressing Jefferson against him before pulling back to cup his mate’s blotchy pink face. “Why would you say that?” he murmurs, doing his best to wipe away tears that show no sign of stopping.

“Because I’m not!” Jefferson whimpers. “I’m fat…”

“Baby—”

“Don’t you dare say it’s because I’m pregnant!” Jefferson snaps. Brock bites his tongue, since that’s exactly what he’d been about to say. “I was fat before I got pregnant and now it’s just getting worse,” he continues, scrubbing roughly at his eyes and sniffling again. “I was skinny last time, that’s why it wasn’t as bad.”

Brock wishes he’d seen this coming. It’s not like Jefferson’s never mentioned his weight before, but he had no idea it was this much of an issue. Maybe he should have…

“You really think you can’t be beautiful because of your weight?”

Jefferson shrugs weakly, sniffling again. “I’m already too tall for an omega,” he mutters. “I don’t need to be fat, too.”

“Too tall?” Brock repeats. Jefferson looks away. “Baby, you’re the same height as me, and that’s not that tall—”

“For an alpha.” Brock’s taken aback by the finality in Jefferson’s tone. The omega’s picking at his sweater now, and huffs when Brock’s hands cover his. “I’ve never met another omega who’s my height. They’re all tiny and delicate and I’m…not.”

Brock sighs, but manages a smile when Jefferson’s hands hold his in return. “I don’t…I don’t really know what to tell you,” he murmurs. “I mean, I’ve been accused of overcompensating for my height by working out as much as I do, and maybe that is part of it but…I don’t think it’s ever been a thing for me like it is for you…”

“Maybe because you’re actually good at compensating,” Jefferson mumbles. The bitterness in his voice is shock to say the least. “Unlike me, who can’t stop eating.”

“Jesus…” 

Just the single word seems to snap Jefferson back into his shell, because he quickly wipes his eyes and shakes his head. “Sorry.”

“No, don’t be,” Brock sighs. “I want you to tell me about this stuff…I feel like an asshole for having no idea you were this upset about it.”

Jefferson shrugs, leaning back against the wall. The plaster must be cold, because he gives a little shiver and pulls his sweater over his chest again.

Well, that last bit may actually have nothing to do with being cold…

“I guess I never really think to talk about it, you know?” he murmurs. “I mean, it’s just always been a part of my life. And then I was ok for a little while, even though I was gaining weight…but then this happened…” He gestures to his chest as he says it, and Brock nods.

“If you don’t mind me asking, what makes this so different?”

“Because I’ve never had… _these_ before,” Jefferson huffs. “No matter how big I got I was always pretty flat there…”

Brock can’t think of anything to do except nod again, but it feels insufficient. He’s out of his depth, no idea where to even start.

“I…” he falters. “I mean…I just wanna make sure that none of this is because you think I don’t like the way you look…”

“It’s not,” Jefferson sighs. He even manages a laugh. “You think I don’t see the way you look at me? I know you don’t feel that way.”

“Guess I’m not all that subtle,” Brock smiles sheepishly.

“I don’t think you even try to be,” Jefferson laughs. But just like that, the light is gone from Jefferson’s face with one shake of his head. “No, it’s me. It’s…” He looks down at himself, raising his hand in a hopeless gesture.“This isn’t…” The sad little hitch has returned to his voice, and the tears are quick to follow. “This doesn’t f-feel like my body.”

Wetness spills onto Jefferson’s cheeks again, and Brock doesn’t know what to do except pull him in close. Jefferson’s clings to him again as he buries little sobs in Brock’s shoulder.

Surely there’s something he should be saying. Maybe he should know exactly what to say, he should be able to see exactly what his mate needs to hear, but he doesn’t. All he can think to do is hold Jefferson, stumbling over lackluster phrases like “it’s alright” and “please don’t cry” in his mind.

He’s almost grateful when there’s a soft knock at the door.

“Jefferson?” Tyler’s voice is hesitant, and almost immediately Jefferson’s wiping at his eyes, still fighting for a smooth breath as he replies.

“Yes?”

“May I come in, or do you need a minute?”

Jefferson looks at Brock, who just looks back and shrugs. Jefferson’s call. Jefferson lets out a little sigh before glancing back at the door.

“Yeah, you can come in.”

Jefferson gives a half-hearted smile when Tyler opens the door, but there’s no hiding the pink splotches on his face. 

“Oh honey…”

That’s all it takes for the tears to return yet again, Jefferson’s lower lip quivering as his smile fails. Tyler sits down next to him, setting what he’s carrying off to the side, out of Jefferson’s line of sight.

“What’s going on, hon?” he asks softly. Jefferson shrugs, fidgeting with one of the buttons on his sweater. Tyler doesn’t seem to need a verbal answer. “Having a hard time with all the changes?”

“Yeah.” Jefferson barely manages to squeak the word out, dropping his head when Tyler rests a hand on his arm. He casts a glance over at Brock, who gives a grateful smile. Jefferson needs someone who can just get it.

“I could tell, honestly,” Tyler murmurs. “I’ve seen the same look on pretty much every pregnant omega who’s ever come in here.”

“Really?” Jefferson raises his head, in time to see Tyler nod.

“It’s a big change, and it happens pretty fast, even female omegas get emotional about it,” he smiles. “But it always seems to be harder on us guys.”

Jefferson smiles softly, rubbing the heel of his hand against his eyes. “Did you have a hard time with it too?” he asks softly.

“Oh god yes,” Tyler laughs. Jefferson’s smile gets just the slightest bit brighter. “Especially with my second. First time around, I had pretty much the easiest pregnancy you can have, but the second…” He shakes his head and chuckles. “I was sick all the time, and I still hadn’t lost all the weight from my first, so I just felt awful.” Jefferson giggles, catching a few more stray tears as he smiles. Tyler grins, squeezing Jefferson’s arm gently. “Plus I was tripping over a toddler, it was a mess.”

Jefferson laughs again, giving a shaky sigh. “How’d you deal with it?”

Tyler shrugs, leaning back against the wall. “Talking to other people going through the same thing helped,” he says. “Going to parenting and birthing classes is great for that.”

“We should probably be doing that anyway,” Jefferson murmurs. Brock nods in agreement. Not like they have any idea what they’re doing.

“I can recommend you a few if you like?”

“That’d be great,” Jefferson smiles. 

“Great,” Tyler says, rubbing Jefferson’s arm. “And, this may sound weird, but you shouldn’t hide from your own body, you know? It’s tempting to always cover up and avoid mirrors, but if you take a couple minutes to actually look at yourself every day, it can help things feel less strange.”

Jefferson nods slightly, even if he looks less than thrilled by the idea. “That worked for you?”

“It helped me start recognizing my own body in the mirror again, even on days when I still felt like shit,” he smiles. “Because some days you will just feel like shit, and that’s when you’re mate’s gonna tell you you’re beautiful.” Jefferson laughs, and Brock smiles up at him. “And he’s going to be right, by the way.”

Jefferson blushes bright pink, rolling his eyes. “Thank you,” he murmurs. 

“You don’t have to thank me, honey,” Tyler laughs. Jefferson shakes his head, and Tyler sighs softly. “One other thing…it sounds corny, but having something pretty to wear can help you feel a lot prettier, too.”

It takes a few seconds for the meaning to click in Jefferson’s mind, but pink grows in his cheeks as soon as it does. “I don’t know,” he mumbles, squeezing handfuls of his sweater. “I just don’t want to call attention to anything.”

“And that’s fine, I did get plain ones like you asked.” Tyler nods back to the pile of black and beige and white behind him. “But I can think of a few others that might make you a lot happier.”

Jefferson bites his lip, glancing at Brock, who shrugs.

“I think he’s right, beautiful,” he grins. “Plain has never been your thing.” 

Jefferson sighs, but Brock sees the smile coming, a light winking in his eyes. It’s not long before Jefferson’s grinning. “Alright, fine,” he laughs breathlessly. “I’ll try on some nicer ones, too.”

Tyler beams, hugging Jefferson around the shoulders before bouncing up. “I knew you’d come around,” he smiles. “Just give me a few minutes and I’ll have some more options for you, ok?”

“Ok,” Jefferson nods, smiling even once Tyler’s left the room.

“He’s pretty great,” Brock chuckles, grunting as he unbends himself from his crouched position.

“Don’t hurt yourself, old man,” Jefferson teases, making Brock groan again as he sits next to Jefferson on the bench. 

“Be nice,” he mutters, wrapping his arm around Jefferson’s shoulder when the omega cuddles closer, giggling softly.

“You’re pretty great too, you know,” Jefferson murmurs. Brock chuckles.

“Even when I’ve got no idea what to say to make you feel better?”

“But you still try, that’s what matters,” Jefferson says. “And I love you for it.”

Brock nods, tipping his head to seek out Jefferson’s lips for a kiss. “Love you too, beautiful.”

Jefferson smiles, laughing sweetly. “You really do mean it every time, don’t you?” he whispers.

“Hell yeah, I do,” Brock grins, just to see Jefferson laugh. 

“I do like to hear you say it,” he murmurs. “Even when I don’t believe you.”

Brock nods, pressing a kiss to the top of Jefferson’s head. “He’s right, you know, it’s a lot to take in, you just gotta give it time.”

“I know,” Jefferson sighs. He tips his head up again, and Brock happily indulges him in another kiss. “Thank you,” he murmurs against Brock’s lips.

“For what?” Brock smiles.

“For being you,” Jefferson murmurs. “For being here, with me.”

“Wouldn’t be anywhere else, baby.”

They have a few more minutes to themselves, Jefferson cuddled up to Brock’s side, still holding onto his sweater. Once Tyler returns, Brock returns to his seat outside the room. Jefferson seems uncertain at first as Tyler talks him through how to fasten—and unfasten—his new bras, but it’s not long before he hears a happy giggle, one that says they’ve found a winner.

“I told you, you’d like something prettier,” he hears Tyler say.

“I shouldn’t have doubted you,” Jefferson replies. 

It takes about half an hour before Jefferson emerges, satisfied with his selections. There are a couple plain bras in his hands, but Brock sees some lace and sparkle peeking out underneath.

And it’s embarrassing how quickly his eyes fall on the curves of Jefferson’s chest, noticeably perkier now, even under his sweater. Jefferson catches him staring almost immediately, but just smiles, blushing prettily.

“Feeling better?” he asks once they’re walking out the door.

“Much,” Jefferson nods. “Can we go look at baby stuff now?”

“As long as you’re feeling up to it,” Brock chuckles. As if Jefferson wouldn’t be up for that.

Hours go by, as do stores, but by the end of the day, they’ve got a few more bags of tiny clothes and even tinier toys, plus a few new clothes for Jefferson as well. Jefferson even falls in love with a little bassinet that they can’t leave without placing an order for.

Every second is worth it for the smile Jefferson’s wearing at the end of the day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave a comment if you liked it! I lose hearing from you guys <3


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Small PSA: starting next Friday I'm going to be going on a six week family trip out of the country, so I'm probably not going to be able to update until after that. This fic is NOT abandoned by any means, I just have other life stuff happening right now. 
> 
> (And for those of you who read my other stuff too, YES Maybe This Time will be getting another update before I leave, just to tide everyone over!)
> 
> Thank you for your understanding, and I hope you enjoy!

Brock’s probably going to spend the rest of his life wondering why a tiny bed for a tiny baby is so damn hard to put together, but if he had to guess, he’d say the four thousand pieces it comes in has something to do with it.

And the instructions written in approximately 3pt font certainly don’t help.

“Are you doing ok?”

Brock glances up from where he’s sat on the floor, surrounded by bolts and screws and bits of plastic and wood and cloth that he can’t seem to make go together. Jefferson’s in the doorway, his hair sweetly tousled from a nap on the couch. Apparently, he gave up on his jeans for the day, because all Brock sees is a navy blue sweater that barely brushes the tops of his thighs, and tall, equally dark socks that hug all the way up to his knees.

Brock has to bite his tongue to keep from whimpering.

“Well, as you can probably see…” he mutters, gesturing at the mess around him. Jefferson laughs softly, tiptoeing his way through the wreckage until he can sink down and curl against Brock’s side.

“I meant how are _you_ doing?” he smiles. “Hope you’re not tearing out your hair out.”

“Only slightly,” Brock snorts. Jefferson laughs again, pressing his lips to Brock’s shoulder.

“Well maybe you should take a break,” he murmurs. “After all, I kinda like your hair.” 

Brock chuckles, humming when Jefferson’s lips find his. “As tempting as a break is…” he sighs. “I don’t think I should leave all this stuff on the floor. We don’t want you tripping.”

His hand finds Jefferson’s belly, softness covering the firm bump he can feel if he rubs with the gentlest pressure. Jefferson blushes, cupping Brock’s arm and brushing his thumb over the alpha’s skin.

“Well you could pack all that stuff away for now,” Jefferson sighs. 

“I could,” Brock nods. He reaches up to tuck Jefferson’s hair behind his ear, and smiles when he sees a grey pearl, surrounded by glinting diamonds. Not a bad idea… “Or I could give Jack a call, he’s real handy with this stuff.”

“Is he now?” Jefferson hums.

“Oh yeah,” Brock laughs. “Helped me put a couple cabinets together when I first moved into my old place. Plus, he did a bunch of stuff like this for one of his sisters when she was pregnant.”

“Is her mate all thumbs, too?”

“N–” Brock’s about to answer when the question actually registers, and he turns with a frown—well, perhaps more of a pout—towards Jefferson, who’s trying and failing to fight a grin by biting down on his lip. “That was just mean, Jefferson.”

Jefferson’s giggle squeaks out before he actually opens his mouth for the sound, burying his face in Brock’s shoulder. “I love you,” he coos, and Brock’s grinning in seconds. Even if he had been upset, he wouldn’t have managed to keep it up through Jefferson nuzzling his neck. “I didn’t mean it.”

“Of course,” Brock chuckles. Jefferson’s arms wind around his, and he rests his hand on the omega’s thigh, stroking softly. “And as I was about to say, Jack’s sister didn’t have a mate at the time.”

“I thought they all did?” Jefferson asks, propping his chin on Brock’s shoulder

“Well they do now,” Brock shrugs. “But when–I think it was Mandy?–when Mandy first got pregnant, the guy who knocked her up didn’t really stick around. So she was on her own for a while and and Jack helped her out.”

“That’s sweet of him.”

“He does have his moments,” Brock smiles. “Then after a while she started seeing the guy she’s mated to now, and Jack went back to being the prickly sonuvabitch we know and love.”

“And the prickly son of a bitch who’s gonna put our bassinet together?” Jefferson grins. 

“Well if anyone can do it, he probably can,” Brock laughs, glancing around for where his phone ended up in the mess around him. “If I can raise him, that is.”

Naturally, Jefferson’s the one who finds his phone, casting out his arm for it like a ballet dancer and then delicately curling back up again once he’s handed it to Brock. “Well while you do that, I guess I should go put on pants,” he sighs.

“If you must,” Brock snorts. Jefferson rolls his eyes, planting a kiss on Brock’s cheek before pushing up onto his knees. But Brock doesn’t quite feel done with him yet. “Oh, and one more thing…”

Jefferson’s questioning hum cuts off with a soft gasp when Brock leans up to kiss him, cupping his face gently. Brock must’ve truly surprised him, because he’s dreamy-eyed and giggly by the time the alpha pulls back.

“Is that all?” Jefferson simpers.

“I just didn’t get a chance to tell you I loved you back,” Brock shrugs. “Wanted to make sure you knew.”

“Of course,” Jefferson smiles, before Brock pulls him into one more kiss.

“And I wanted to tell you that you look really beautiful today.” Even after so much time, he still savors every one of Jefferson’s blushes.

“Thank you,” Jefferson replies.

“If you don’t mind me asking,” Brock murmurs. “How are you doing with that? The body stuff, I mean.”

Jefferson shrugs one shoulder, his eyes wandering to the side while his hands rest on Brock’s chest. “Ok, I guess,” he sighs. “Better than I was, but not all the way to completely fine.”

“I’m glad,” Brock nods, flashing a little grin that Jefferson mirrors back to him. “Glad that you’re making progress, that is, not—”

“I know what you meant,” Jefferson chuckles. Brock’s lips find his mate’s forehead, then his cheek, down to his bondmark, just his mate knows how much he means those words. Warmth flows through them both as Jefferson mewls, his hands tightening in Brock’s shirt for a moment before he leans away, a wry smile contrasting his gentle eyes. “Now go call Jack before I trip on something.”

Brock laughs as he allows Jefferson to slip out of his arms and hurry towards the door, and folds his legs as he flips through his phone in search of Jack’s name. The alpha whines a little about being dragged out of bed, but it’s all half-hearted.

By the time he arrives, Jefferson’s perched on the kitchen counter with a slice of leftover pizza—another distressing pineapple, blue cheese, olive, and garlic concoction—and a cup of tea. He beams at Jack as soon as the man walks through the door, and Jack grins right back at him.

“I’m here to save the day,” he says, clapping Brock on the back.

“Our hero,” Brock snorts. Jefferson laughs, popping the last bite of his pizza in his mouth as he pushes off the counter. Jack obliges him with a one-armed hug, and even rubs Jefferson’s shoulders affectionately when he leans back.

“Look at you,” he chuckles. “Fillin’ out all pretty.”

Jefferson rolls his eyes, but at least he seems to take the compliment, smiling softly.

“So what’s it been, about three months?” Jack asks as they head down the hall into the bedroom.

“Just about,” Jefferson nods, resting his hand over his belly. “Guess we’re kind of getting a headstart on nesting.”

“No wrong way to do it,” Jack shrugs. They enter the bedroom, and Jack chuckles at the mess on the floor. “What kinda shit have you gotten yourself into?”

“I don’t fuckin’ know, man,” Brock mutters. “I’ve been staring at that stuff for at least a couple hours.”

Jack shakes his head, leaning down to grab the paper Brock had discarded. “You read the instructions?”

“Yeah,” Brock snorts. “Not that they’re any help.”

Jack rolls his eyes, sitting down and scanning the page. “Can you believe this guy held a record for assembling and breaking down weapons when we were in basic together?” he says, smirking at Jefferson, who’s curled up on the bed. 

“Really?” Jefferson’s eyes light up as he looks at Brock. “You never told me that.”

Brock shrugs. “I don’t feel the need to brag about it.”

“Didn’t brag about it back in the day either,” Jack says. He’s begun putting parts together now, screwing together bars and bolts, a recognizable shape already starting to become visible. “S’why I liked him, he didn’t talk a lot.”

“I know a little something about that,” Jefferson giggles. He sips at his tea while Brock joins Jack on the floor, though he does little more than hand over the right part once Jack’s identified it. “Can I help?”

“I think we’ve got it,” Jack says. Jefferson nods, and Brock smiles when he sees the omega reach for his latest knitting project: a little blanket, with pale, blue-green yarn. Jack notices too, and grins. “Is that for your pup?”

“Yeah,” Jefferson nods. “I want to make as much as I can for him.”

“He’s got a whole drawer full of hats and shoes,” Brock adds, passing Jack a screwdriver.

“You gotta make little mittens, too,” he says. “Apparently the little guys can scratch themselves.”

“Really?” Brock and Jefferson say it at the same time, leaving Jack to chuckle.

“Really,” he nods. “Almost a dozen nieces and nephews, every one wore mittens for the first few months. Helps to keep ‘em warm too.”

Jefferson glances at Brock, a bemused little smile on his face. “I’ll put it on the list.”

“Any other tidbits of advice you’d like to share?” Brock asks. Jack shrugs.

“All my sisters say those bouncy swings are a godsend,” he says. “Mandy’s still got hers, I could ask her if she’d be willing to give it to you, if you don’t mind a hand-me-down.”

“I think we’d survive,” Brock laughs. Baby stuff costs a fucking fortune… “Mandy’s the one who was on her own when she was pregnant, right?”

“Yeah,” Jack says. “And I’m sure she’d be willing to part with a bunch of her old baby stuff, she’s said more than once that she and her guy are happy with just one.”

Jefferson nods, looping a few more stitches into the blanket. Brock provides leverage as Jack pops couple bars into place. Nearly done.

“You sound so different when you talk about your family,” Jefferson murmurs after a moment. Jack raises an eyebrow, glancing up briefly, though he seems reluctant to keep eye contact for very long.

“Do I?” he asks, his voice flat. Jefferson can tell he’s pressing his luck, so he simply nods.Jack snorts after a moment, returning his attention to settling the basket of the bassinet into its home. But Jefferson can’t quite seem to give up, cautiously knitting another stitch as he glances at Jack again.

“I’m surprised you don’t talk about them more, since there’s so many of them.”

Jack sighs and doesn’t look up. “Well we’re not really that close, you know?”

The nudge of sadness Brock can feel from his mate almost has him bounding across the room to kiss the little frown on Jefferson’s face. How Jefferson can go through life feeling so much for every person he meets is beyond him…

Jefferson’s biting his lip now, and let’s out a little sigh. “That’s a shame,” he murmurs.

“I guess?” Jack shrugs, tension keeping his shoulders from completely relaxing. But the sudden honesty that flows from him has even Brock surprised. “I don’t know, we don’t really have much to talk about. They’ve all kinda got their greeting card lives now, and that’s definitely not the kind of life I have…”

Jefferson nods slowly, and Brock knows that something good must be coming by the little twitch of the omega’s mouth. And he’s not disappointed.

“Well then maybe next year Brock and I should make a greeting card and have you be on it, so you’d have something to talk about.”

Jack barks a laugh, drowning out Brock’s quieter chuckle. Jack looks up at Jefferson again, and Brock smirks at the fondness in his gaze.

“You’re really somethin’, kid, you know that?”

Jefferson giggles, shrugging one shoulder as his eyes shift to Brock. “I think I’ve been told something similar before.”

“And I was right, too,” Brock grins. Jefferson flushes, rolling his eyes and turning back to his knitting. Soon enough, Jack’s leaning back with a satisfied sigh, having screwed the final bolt into place.

“Looks like we’re in business,” Brock chuckles. 

“Looks like it,” Jack nods, pushing himself up. All that’s left is to tuck the tiny pad of a mattress in place, and drape lacy fabric around the edge and over the head in a little canopy. Brock smirks at the sight of Jack’s large, rough hands handle the delicate fabric so carefully.

“Cute,” the taller man nods as he steps back to admire his work. “Very…you,” he adds, looking over at Jefferson. Jefferson’s smile is so bright, his whole face glows as he looks back and forth between them.

“What is that face for?” Brock chuckles. Jefferson shrugs, slipping off the bed.

“You guys are kinda cute, too,” he murmurs. Brock’s pretty sure he’s not the only one getting a little red-faced, and he knows that they both scoff half-heartedly.

Jefferson’s having none of it.

“ _Alphas_ …I swear,” he giggles, pushing up on his toes so he can kiss Jack’s cheek. Brock smirks when he sees the tops of Jack’s ears turn red. “Thank you for saving the day.”

“No problem,” Jack nods, rubbing at the back of his neck as he clears his throat. “Now go give those kisses to your mate, he helped.”

Jefferson rolls his eyes, but quickly steps into Brock’s arms when they’re opened to him, humming softly as Brock’s lips mold to his. “And thank you for helping.”

“Well I do what I can,” Brock smiles. Jefferson shakes his head, turning back to Jack.

“So are you gonna rush right back out again?”

“I hadn’t really thought that far,” Jack shrugs, managing a little smile. “Don’t really have any plans, other than maybe going on a run or something before work.”

Jefferson nods, tilting his head up to grin at Brock. “You guys should go do something together.”

“You think so?” Brock smirks, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah,” Jefferson nods. “You haven’t been out in a while.”

Brock snorts. Jefferson’s right. Brock hasn’t been out for anything other than work in at least a few days. The price of being mated to another homebody, they don’t get out much.

“And you think I need to go out more often than I do?”

“Can’t hurt,” Jefferson shrugs. “Go…push each other around, or whatever it is you alphas do.”

Jack laughs, grinning at Brock and shoving his shoulder. “Doesn’t sound too bad to me.” Brock shoves him right back, but fails to keep a smile off his face.

“If I _have_ to,” Brock sighs, being dramatic just to see Jefferson pout at him.

“I say you do,” he says, sounding final. Brock nods. No use pushing back against his stubborn mate.

“And what are you going to do all day, beautiful?”

Jefferson shrugs, waltzing around the bed to pick up his tea again. “I have friends too, you know.”

“Gonna give Belle a call?”

“Or Tyler or Nat or Maria,” Jefferson muses. “Hadn’t decided yet.”

“Well while you do that,” Jack says. “I will take your mate off your hands.”

“Much obliged,” Jefferson grins. Brock rolls his eyes.

“Fine,” he says, glancing at Jack. “But if I’m going with you, it’s to the gym, not on a damn run.”

“Whatever you want, princess,” Jack smirks. Jefferson’s giggle glints of the walls, as Brock’s left to roll his eyes again.

******

All in all, he can’t actually complain about being dragged out of the house to work out. Having Jack kick his ass multiple times in a row reminds him just how much he’s been slacking, but at least the other alpha doesn’t gloat too much over his victories. Plus he’s all too happy to offer up the option of a rematch later in the week, which Brock eagerly accepts.

Jefferson’s out when Brock returns home later in the afternoon, and a little note on the counter tells him the omega went to a movie. Doesn’t really matter anyhow, all Brock really has time for is grabbing a shower and something to eat before he’s off to work. 

He hasn’t been more eager to get home in a while, his whole body aching after his workout with Jack and several hours on his feet.The main room is dark, aside from light from the streetlamps sneaking in through the curtains when Brock walks in, but he doesn’t bother with turning on the light, just shrugs off his coat and slips out of his shoes before making his way down the hall with careful steps.

Just as he suspected, Jefferson’s already in bed, his pillow cuddled close, his face half hidden by curls. Brock smiles, resisting the urge to brush back the omega’s hair so he can have a selfish peek at his mate’s face. Instead he pulls off his shirt, walking back around the bed with a yawn.

Catching sight of the bassinet out of the corner of his eye stops him. Or, more specifically, what Jefferson has tucked into the little bed while he’s been gone. The knitted blanket, for one, neatly folded, and a rabbit plush. Brock smiles as he picks up the fluffy white toy, barely bigger than the palm of his hand. It’s familiar, somehow, but he can’t quite place it.

“Brock?”

He glances over his shoulder at the sound of Jefferson’s voice, setting the toy back down as he crawls onto the bed. 

“Hey, baby,” he whispers, brushing his lips against Jefferson’s. The omega rolls onto his back, smiling up at Brock with half-lidded eyes. “Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you.”

“You didn’t,” Jefferson murmurs. “I just know when you’re close.”

Brock chuckles and finds himself enveloped in a kiss as he settles onto his side with Jefferson pressed against him. The omega’s scent has begun to shift again in the past few weeks. Less floral, more gentle. Milky. Brock smiles at the thought as he brushes his nose against Jefferson’s.

“How was your movie?”

“Pretty good,” Jefferson sighs. “Some old spy movie, Nat picked it out.”

“Sounds interesting,” Brock chuckles. Jefferson nods, sighing softly a he tucks back some of his hair. “The rabbit is cute, by the way.”

Quite unexpectedly, Brock feels Jefferson’s skin go hot, and finally, it clicks where he’s seen that toy before: in a shoebox, tucked next to tiny pink booties and a matching onesie.

“That was one of the things you got for Grace, wasn’t it?”

Very slowly, Jefferson tips his head in a nod, peering up at Brock with grey eyes, wide enough to drown in. “That’s not weird, right?”

“Of course not,” Brock says. “Makes sense to use what we’ve already got.”

“I guess,” Jefferson sighs, uncertainty heavy in his voice. Brock frowns softly, brushing his fingers gently down Jefferson’s cheek.

“What is it, beautiful?”

Jefferson’s face softens at the petname, and he lets out a little sigh. “I just don’t want him to only have stuff I got for her, you know? Some of his stuff should really be his.”

Brock smiles softly, pressing his lips to Jefferson’s forehead. “Well, he’s got his own blanket…” he murmurs, letting his lips brush the bridge of Jefferson’s nose. “And his own bed…” His lips touch Jefferson’s cheek this time, and he can feel the omega start to smile. “And so much of his own clothing that I’ve already lost track…” Jefferson giggles softly, his lips vibrating when Brock covers them with his own. “So I think he’s gonna be just fine.”

Jefferson sighs softly, but his smile still glows, his eyes sparkling in the low light. “Maybe you’re right.”

“I like to think that I am,” Brock grins, eliciting a pretty laugh from his mate. He slides his arms around Jefferson, pulling him closer, and Jefferson’s arms wind around him in return. “So you think it’s a ‘he’?”

Jefferson giggles sheepishly, but doesn’t hesitate to nod. “I guess, yeah,” he murmurs. “I don’t know why, just a feeling.”

Brock nods, letting a smile curl onto his face. He doesn’t care one way or another, but the image of a little boy with Jefferson’s messy curls, round cheeks, and pouty mouth floats into his mind, and Brock knows he’s going to have a hell of a time trying to replace it with anything else. “So, I’ve been meaning to ask, have you thought about a name for him?”

Jefferson flushes again, Brock smiles in the radiating heat. He feels Jefferson’s hand shift from resting against his back, down to Jefferson’s own stomach, rubbing softly.

“Well I had thought of one that I really like…” he murmurs. 

“Gonna share?” Brock grins. 

Jefferson shrugs slightly, letting the moment linger before he finally murmurs: “Cameron.” 

“Cameron?” Brock repeats. Jefferson nods.

“Do you like it?” he asks softly. 

“I do,” Brock replies. “How’d you come up with it?”

“Nothing special, I guess,” Jefferson sighs. “I was just looking through a bunch of names, as as soon as I saw that one, it just made sense, you know? I had a hard time imagining calling him anything else.”

Brock smiles and lets his hand rest over Jefferson’s on top of his belly. Who is he to deny his mate? “Then Cameron it is.”

Jefferson sucks in a little breath, and Brock feels a shimmering warmth build in his chest until it’s finally released as a giddy laugh from Jefferson. The omega’s lips are on his in an instant and Brock finds himself laughing too as he pulls Jefferson in closer, as close as he can manage, so he can feel every curve in his mate’s body.

He almost gives in and rolls on top of Jefferson, but when his mate looks up at him with sleepy eyes, and pulls up the strap on his tank-top, he thinks better of it. They’ll have plenty of opportunities, when Jefferson decides he’s ready.

“You need to sleep,” he murmurs, tucking Jefferson’s hair behind his ears.

“So do you,” Jefferson whispers back.

“Yeah, but more than that I need to clean up a little,” he chuckles. “But you should go back to sleep, I’ll just be a couple minutes.

Jefferson hums in agreement, brushing one more kiss against Brock’s nose. “Goodnight, sweetheart,” he murmurs.

“Night, beautiful.”

******

It only gets more impossibly difficult not to admire Jefferson’s body as the days continue to turn into weeks. Brock does his best not to stare, not wanting to put Jefferson on the spot, but he can’t help himself sometimes. 

More than once his strength of will almost caves, like the time he catches sight of Jefferson in the bathroom, leaning over the counter with his arms framing his chest, the thin, lacy band of a white bra wrapped snugly around him. Brock’s vantage point isn’t exactly the best, considering the only thing allowing him to get a glance is the slightly ajar bathroom door, but he can very well imagine the view: the same one he gets when Jefferson presses his hands against Brock’s shoulders and loses himself just long enough to let his shirt slip down while riding him. Jefferson had been wearing a tank top the last time they made love, and Brock had almost given in to temptation then, too.

He’d stays, captivated, as Jefferson’s eyes look over his chest. The omega even gives a little smile when he squeezes his arms together a more tightly. Brock smile too, but quickly ducks out of the room once Jefferson’s gaze begins to drift back up to make eye contact with his reflection in the mirror. 

Luckily enough, Jefferson doesn’t question why Brock decides to press him against the door and kiss the breath right out of him before he can leave for work. And once Brock’s done with him, the omega doesn’t seem to be complaining either.

And good god, if the sight of Jefferson all curvy and soft wasn’t enough, the scent of him these days would do Brock in all on it’s own. Milky sweet and warm like a blanket wrapped around your shoulders on a cool night and Brock can’t get enough. It’s really his saving grace that Jefferson doesn’t mind being nuzzled and nipped every spare moment they have, because Brock can tell that particular instinct is only going to get worse as his mate begins to show more.

But as liberal as he may be with his mouth, his still careful with his hands, keeping them away from the pretty curves of his mate’s chest. Wait, he tells himself, until the opportunity is finally offered to him.

Considering how eager he’s been, it’s almost comical how blindsided he is when the dam finally does break.

In his defense, it’s not a special day of any kind. Well, Brock had brought home flowers the day before, but not for any real reason; just to see Jefferson smile and coo over the silky petals. Other than that, it was just another Sunday evening. They’d eaten on the couch together—sometimes he wonders why they even bother having a table they never use—and Jefferson had kissed his cheek and told him he was going to shower. Brock had just nodded, already elbows-deep in tidying the kitchen. 

At least half an hour passes, though he barely notices, busy washing dishes and scrubbing the stove and making sure everything’s tucked neatly back into place. He’s about to start rearranging the pillows on the couch, when his phone vibrates.

Reflexively, he pulls the thing out of his pocket, and his brows knit together when he sees Jefferson’s name lit up.

Why is Jefferson texting him from the other side of their apartment?

He taps on the message, and nearly drops his phone.

It’s a picture of Jefferson, not that it actually shows his face, just a hint of a teasing lip-bite near the top of the frame. The rest is creamy skin, except for the black satin trimmed with red lace that covers omega’s chest. Brock can actually feel his mouth watering at the sight of the delicate V where his breasts press together, emphasized by a demure arm cupped just underneath them.

Brock’s pretty sure he hasn’t breathed in at least a minute, though perhaps the ringing in his ears has more to do with the fact that his brain is currently operating with a very limited blood supply…

Jefferson meant to send this to him, right?

He can’t help but wonder, considering his shy mate barely tolerates having his picture taken when he’s made up and fully clothed, forget about this sort of picture. Brock only has that one Jefferson reluctantly let him take months before, which is safely sequestered away behind a password on his phone, only to be opened when he’s in their apartment, by himself. If someone had told him even five minutes ago that Jefferson had the courage to send a photo like this, Brock would have laughed in their face.

Surely if it was an accident, Jefferson would have sent him more messages by now, profuse apologies and pleas to delete the picture and never tell anyone. But there’s nothing except the photo waiting for him, captioned with a little pink heart that has Brock grinning.

He can’t just leave his mate hanging.

_[is that for me?]_ he replies. It only takes a few moments for Jefferson to respond.

_[Why don’t you come to the bedroom and find out?]_

Brock walks straight into the coffee table, his feet working faster than his brain. Jefferson’s giggle is audible even from down the hall.

Brock nearly walks into the doorframe too, when the first thing he sees are red stockings on the bed. Red stockings that cling all the way up Jefferson’s thighs, until they meet black garters. Higher than that, and his view is obscured by his own black jacket, zipped all the way up to where Jefferson’s chin is bashfully tucked down close to his chest, his lips curled into a tiny smile.

“Hey,” he whispers, his toes curling into the bedspread.

“You know my birthday isn’t until February, right?” Brock grins, striding across the room and moving onto the bed. Jefferson giggles, drawing his legs up towards his body as Brock crawls towards him, so Brock gets to chase satiny feet until he’s leaning over his omega. 

“Does it have to be your birthday for me to decide to do something new?” Jefferson murmurs. 

“Hell no,” Brock chuckles. He rests his hands on Jefferson’s thighs, sliding them slowly along the red silk and pressing a kiss to Jefferson’s knee when the omega moans softly. “But that was one hell of a surprise.”

“A good one?”

Brock heart twinges at the hesitance in Jefferson’s voice. “A very good one,” he nods. He nudges Jefferson’s legs apart, and they fall open for him easily, revealing silky black panties and a little strip of Jefferson’s belly. Beautiful and inviting, but not the evening’s main attraction, or so Brock hopes. “You heard how I eager I was to get in here, didn’t you?”

Jefferson snorts. “I meant to ask, is your shin ok?”

“I’ll live,” Brock shrugs, and Jefferson rolls his eyes. But when Brock leans closer, Jefferson doesn’t hesitate to cup the alpha’s face and guide him in the rest of the way for soft kisses. 

“So you like what I’m wearing?” he asks softly. Brock doesn’t hesitate to nod.

“Course I do,” he grins. “I mean, you know how much I like these.” He trails his fingertips along the outside of Jefferson’s thigh, for emphasis, drinking in the omega’s shiver. 

“Well I assumed, since you got them for me,” Jefferson grins, but it doesn’t take long for his expression to fade into uncertainty again. “I, uh, I got the bra to match…”

“I noticed,” Brock smiles. “And I liked what I saw in the photo very much.” Jefferson turns almost as red as his stockings, and Brock brushes kisses against his cheeks. “But I always find that photos never do the real thing justice.”

“I guess so,” Jefferson replies, but he’s looking down again. Brock sighs again.

“You know you don’t owe me anything, right?” he says.

“I know,” Jefferson nods. His hands fidget with Brock’s shirt, as he shrugs one shoulder. “And I want to…I guess I’m just more nervous than I thought I’d be.”

“Nothing wrong with that,” Brock shrugs. “You want me to go first?”

Jefferson sighs, but nods, and Brock wastes no time in his shirt over his head. Jefferson’s hands run up his chest as he leans down to press his lips to his mate’s.

“Better?” he grins.

“Better,” Jefferson smiles. Brock chuckles softly and kisses him again, gathering Jefferson into his arms. Jefferson mewls softly, his fingers carding through Brock’s hair, giggling when Brock starts peppering him with kisses. Some for his cheeks, his forehead, the little crinkles at the corner of his eyes caused by his smiling…Brock hums as he nuzzles just under Jefferson’s ear, nipping lightly all the way down the length of his neck. 

His hand wanders over Jefferson’s belly, then further up where his palm cups gently over the soft rise of his breast. Jefferson sucks in a sudden breath, but makes no move to push Brock’s hand away.

“Are you sensitive there?” Brock asks. 

“Yeah,” Jefferson says. “Just be gentle?”

“‘Course, baby,” Brock murmurs. Jefferson smiles at him before dissolving into purrs that roll off his tongue as warm kisses are pressed along his jaw. Brock slides his hand up further, carefully taking hold of the jacket’s zipper. “May I?”

Jefferson nods, and Brock doesn’t hesitate to start slowing tugging on the zipper. But he doesn’t even get it a full inch down before he feels Jefferson’s pulse start racing under his lips. He sighs softly, kissing that throbbing beat as he lets his hand pause. Clearly, Jefferson needs something else. Something to break the tension…

He smirks as he hums through his next kiss to Jefferson’s neck, pressing quick pecks as he slides down the omega’s body. Jefferson picks his head up, his brow furrowed as he watches Brock.

“What are you—”

His question drops off when Brock takes the zipper in his teeth, flashing a grin that has Jefferson bursting into giggles. 

“Really?” he snorts.

“Uh-huh,” Brock mumbles around the zipper, dragging it down while Jefferson vibrates with laughter, though his eyes stay on Brock the whole time.

“Was that really necessary?” he grins once Brock leans back. 

“Of course,” he replies. He’s got the zipper down to just below Jefferson’s navel, and pulls it the rest of the way, while his teeth attend to the equally necessary task of nipping at Jefferson’s belly. The omega squeaks in surprise, but his eyes are warm when Brock looks up at him. “That smile is always necessary.”

Jefferson’s face warms with a brilliant blush now, his smile glowing bright as ever, despite how he shakes his head. Brock lets his lips fall gentle against Jefferson’s stomach this time in slow, easy kisses that let his damp breath caress Jefferson’s skin for a few moments after each one. His eyes slip closed when Jefferson moans, and he moves in a winding path of languid kisses up his mate’s body, letting instinct and muscle memory be his guide. Jefferson moans so sweetly for him as his teeth and tongue find the well-loved sensitive spots on his body; he even keens when Brock pauses to suck a lovebite on his belly, his hands tugging at Brock’s hair.

Brock pauses for just a moment when his lips bump into the silky cup of Jefferson’s bra, but smiles as he continues to press kisses over it until he meets skin again. His nose brushes the valley where Jefferson’s breasts meet, and his tongue dips in next when he indulges in an open-mouthed kiss. Jefferson sighs dreamily, and Brock basks in the sound, seeking out Jefferson’s lips with his own.

He blinks his eyes open slowly to find Jefferson smiling at him, shy and pink-cheeked. 

“You’re fucking perfect, you know that?” Brock smirks. Jefferson’s lower lip disappears between his teeth, but it’s not enough to keep his smile from curling up even more, his dimples winking in his cheeks.

“Thank you,” he whispers, tipping his head up for another kiss. Brock hums softly, letting his hand cup under Jefferson’s breast again, and the omega’s whole body tenses when Brock manages to locate his nipple beneath his bra, rubbing back and forth across it.

“Like that?” Brock purrs, as if he really needs to be told the answer.

“You know I do,” Jefferson responds. Brock chuckles, nipping at his mate’s lip.

“Shall I continue?”

There’s a flash of hesitation on Jefferson’s part, and Brock waits patiently as lavender eyes flick back and forth, scanning his face. Brock gives a little smile, his hand slipping down to Jefferson’s waist, where his thumb brushes gentle circles against Jefferson’s skin.

“I didn’t think you’d be this eager,” he finally murmurs. Brock does his best to shrug it off.

“You know I’m always eager for you.” Jefferson’s not buying it.

“I mean, this, specifically,” he insists, his eyes flicking down pointedly at his chest. “It’s new and…different…”

Brock shrugs again, cocking a little grin. “To be honest, that’s part of why I’m so eager.”

Jefferson bites his lip, his breath huffing out in a little sigh. “You really don’t think it’s…weird?”

“No,” Brock says, with all the certainty in the world. “And if you told me a year ago that I’d feel that way now, I probably wouldn’t have believed it, but it just makes sense, you know?” He shrugs again, this time glancing away. It sounds so cliché, but it’s the only way he can think to say it. “It’s you, and you always make sense to me…”

He knows he’s said the right thing when he hears Jefferson suck in a little breath and feels butterflies in his stomach. Jefferson’s eyes sparkle at him when he looks back, and as they meet for a kiss, light sparks between them, leaving no room for any doubt.

“Sweetheart,” Jefferson coos.

“I try,” Brock grins. Jefferson nods, dotting a kiss on the tip of Brock’s nose. 

“I know,” he murmurs, reaching for Brock’s hand. “And…if you wanted to continue…” He guides Brock’s hand up, resting it over his breast, “You’re welcome to.”

With that blessing, Brock presses a kiss to Jefferson’s lips and doesn’t hesitate to move lower. He cups the plump curves with both hands, nuzzling between them until Jefferson bursts into giggles again. Giggles that quickly turn to moans when Brock’s heated kisses find his nipples, his tongue rolling against the little buds, leaving dark spots in the fabric. Brock purrs as fingers tangle in his hair, lace tickling his tongue as he drags the tip of it along the outline of Jefferson’s bra.

“You know, as pretty as this is…” he says, glancing back up at Jefferson, “I’d love to see you without it.”

Jefferson chews at his lip, but a smile makes an appearance soon enough. “I think we can manage that.”

Brock grins, moving back when Jefferson sits up just enough to slide Brock’s jacket down his arms. The black bra stands out even more sharply when surrounded by only Jefferson’s alabaster skin, and red lace trim frames the natural flush in his chest beautifully. Living, breathing, glowing art, and Jefferson’s offering it to him. Brock finds himself a little breathless at the sight.

“So do I need to take it off myself, or can you handle it?”

“Maybe if you turn around so I can see what I’m doing,” Brock chuckles. He’s never done this before, after all. Jefferson smirks at him, but obligingly turns around, sliding his hair out of the way. 

Nothing too frightening, Brock finds as he slips his fingers under the band for leverage. Just a few little hook-and-eye closures that slip loose easily enough with a little pinch. The band pops open, but the bra doesn’t fall. Brock realizes why when he sees Jefferson’s arms folded over his chest. The omega glances at him over his shoulder, leaning back so he can press himself against Brock’s chest. Brock moans at the warm, skin-to-skin contact, wrapping his arms around Jefferson’s waist and kissing the bridge of his nose. 

“ _Ti amo, bello,_ ” he murmurs, making Jefferson giggle. Brock chuckles too, trailing his fingers slowly up Jefferson’s arm, and slipping one bra-strap off his shoulder. He kisses the pink mark the strap has left and sees Jefferson bite his lip out of the corner of his eye. He mirrors his actions on the other side of Jefferson’s body, this time pausing to nip Jefferson’s bondmark as his lips brush over his mate’s shoulder. Jefferson moans sweetly, and let’s Brock’s hands take the place of his own, which fall to his sides. 

Lavender eyes meet Brock’s, holding steady as Brock slowly pushes the bra down Jefferson’s arms. Jefferson’s breath picks up a little, and his mouth relaxes easily for a kiss when Brock leans in. The bra falls to the floor and Brock’s hands slide back up Jefferson’s body, rising as Jefferson’s breath makes his chest do the same

Jefferson’s breasts are small and pert, just enough to fill Brock’s hands as he cups them tenderly, careful not to squeeze too hard. The omega’s nipples are hard against his palms, and Jefferson moans when Brock’s touch moves back and forth. His own, far more delicate hands cover Brock’s—hanging, gripping, but definitely not pulling away.

Brock’s lips place more kisses across Jefferson’s shoulders, closing his eyes again as he finds Jefferson’s bondmark and feels their connection vibrate with satisfaction, resonating deep within them both. Jefferson’s cheek rest against Brock’s hair, nuzzling lazily as he lets out a happy sigh.

When Brock eyes slip open again, they catch sight of the flowers he’d brought home the day before sitting next to Jefferson’s side of the bed, and Brock smiles as an idea creeps into his head. 

“Would you lay down for me, beautiful?” he murmurs. Jefferson nods, though he seems reluctant to lean out of Brock’s arms at first. But it’s a breathtaking sight when he settles himself into the pillows piled against the headboard, even if his arms do raise to cover his chest again, still just a touch uncertain. Brock meets no resistance when he nudges those hands out of the way, however, settling himself on top of Jefferson again. 

“Do you trust me?” he asks. 

“Of course,” Jefferson nods, a confused frown painting furrows in his forehead. Brock kisses those lines, then Jefferson’s lips.

“Then close your eyes for me.”

Jefferson’s frown gives a little twitch upwards as bemusement colors his gaze, but after a few seconds of scanning Brock’s face, his eyes do close. Brock kisses right between them, smiling when the little furrows in his brow smooth out.

He pushes himself up, sliding towards the edge of the bed, and Jefferson’s frown returns instantly. 

“Where are you going?”

“Not far,” Brock replies. “And no peeking.” 

Jefferson’s lower lip pushes into a pout, but he doesn’t complain, though he is covering his chest again. Brock finds as his gaze wandering down the length of the omega’s body of it’s own accord. How Jefferson could ever be ashamed of how he looks, Brock’s pretty sure he’ll never understand. Looking at Jefferson, the only thing he can think is how badly he wants to have that body pressed close to his again. His cock throbs at just the thought, hard enough that his hands immediately go to his fly, seeking relief. 

A little grin crosses Jefferson’s face at the sound of Brock’s zipper being tugged down, and Brock chuckles as he pulls off his jeans and kicks them away.

“You like that sound, don’t you?”

“Why wouldn’t I when I know what it means?” Jefferson replies. Brock laughs again, and reaches towards the bouquet on the bedside table, plucking one lavender rose out of the vase before moving back onto the bed. Jefferson reaches for him, but Brock gently pushes his hands back towards the pillows. 

“Not yet,” he murmurs. Jefferson pouts again, but this time lets his hands grip the pillow his head’s rested on, leaving his body open and bare as Brock straddles his thighs, turning the rose over in his hand.

He starts just above Jefferson’s panties, letting the petals kiss Jefferson’s skin as he trails to the rose up Jefferson’s body. Jefferson gasps softly, his mouth falling open while his brow creases again. But though his mind seems at a loss, his body makes no complaint, his back arching when the rose passes over his chest, and his head tipping back as it trails up his neck.

“What is that?” he asks breathlessly, while Brock pets the rose down his cheek.

“I bet you can guess,” Brock teases, letting the blossom rest over Jefferson’s lips, just under his nose. Jefferson’s smiling within seconds, once he catches the rose scent.

“And what made you decide to grab one of my flowers?” he asks. Brock shrugs, even though he knows Jefferson can’t see him, trailing the rose down Jefferson’s neck again. 

“Well I was thinking about the last time I got a photo of you looking exquisite in our bed,” he muses, tracing the rose along the curve of Jefferson’s breast. “I remember saying something about using a feather on you…but since I don’t have a feather, I thought this would do.”

Jefferson giggles, gasping when the rose brushes his nipple. Brock grins, drawing the rose into gentle circles until Jefferson mewls, squirming between Brock’s legs. His eyes are still shut tightly, but Brock’s pretty sure that has nothing to do with his command at this point. 

He lets the rose drift to the other side of Jefferson’s chest, making his circles wider at first, then gradually tighter, closing in around Jefferson’s nipple. The omega’s breath picks up in anticipation and a tremor shudders through him the moment the rose tickles the dusky pink peak.

When he feels Jefferson’s hips buck up, he pulls back, leaving Jefferson to whine at him. The omega’s eyes blink open now, and he pouts again as he looks up at Brock, who only grins. 

“What’s that face for?” he chuckles, tracing the rose along Jefferson’s cheekbone. Jefferson tries to keep his pout, but it very clearly wavers.

“Didn’t want you to stop,” he mumbles. Brock smiles, letting the rose continue its downward path.

“As you wish.”

Jefferson’s eyes flutter closed again when Brock begins to trace delicate circles across his stomach. Chills break out across his skin, raising goosebumps as Brock tickles Jefferson’s sides, the dip in his waist, his navel, then down along the outside of his thigh and back up. Brock pauses, hovering just over the swell in Jefferson’s panties, glancing up at his mate.

“You want it here, too?”

Jefferson whines again as he nods, attempting to push his hips up and groaning when Brock squeezes his thighs to keep him in place. “You’re so mean tonight,” he pouts. 

“And here I thought I was just taking my time and enjoying myself,” Brock smiles. He finds the tip of Jefferson’s cock, rubbing lightly with the rose. Jefferson moans, squirming again. “Stopping to smell the roses…or something.”

Jefferson scoffs, but can’t help how his hips press up again under Brock’s careful caresses. “That’s just an excuse to be a tease,” he mumbles. Brock shrugs, lifting the rose again so he can tap it against Jefferson’s lips. 

“You’re probably right,” he grins. Jefferson smiles back at having been vindicated, tipping his head up to kiss the rosebud lightly. Brock’s quick to take its place, and Jefferson purrs into his mouth, a curious tongue slipping through in the wake of the sound. Brock nips at the intruder, chuckling when Jefferson tugs his hair sharply in response.

“Had enough teasing?”

“More than enough,” Jefferson insists. And with that, the rose is discarded in favor of Brock’s lips and tongue moving down Jefferson’s neck once again. His hands cup the omega’s breasts, guiding one nipple up to his mouth while the other gets teased with a wandering fingertip. A gasp rushes to fill Jefferson’s chest, arching his back up to close the space between their bodies.

“Oh my god…” he moans. Brock runs his tongue around Jefferson’s nipple slowly, and the omega gasps again, the sound coming out as a whimper this time.

“You weren’t kidding about being sensitive,” Brock murmurs.

“Did you really think I was?” Jefferson’s retort is punctuated by a sharp cry when Brock sucks his nipple between his teeth, worrying it gently. Jefferson grips Brock’s shoulders, his nails digging into the alpha’s skin was his his hips begin to rock in time with the firm strokes of Brock’s tongue.

Another cry escapes into the heated air as Brock’s fingers press and roll Jefferson’s other nipple, and it’s not long before the omega’s breaths begin to catch in his throat, squeaking out of him as little whimpers while his nails rake Brock’s shoulders. 

“Don’t stop,” he pleads. “God…don’t stop!”

As if Brock had any intention, though he does switch sides, which is just enough of a pause for Jefferson to whine at him. The omega holds his head this time when he latches on, not about to let him pull away.

When Jefferson throws his head back, palms splaying flat, Brock can’t resist purring deep in his throat, knowing what’s coming. The vibration is all it takes for Jefferson to stutter through a rich moan, his whole body jolting as orgasm rushes through him, filling the pit of Brock’s stomach with light as he keeps his ministrations steady. Slow licks, gentle sucking, light touches, until Jefferson falls to trembling and nudges him away.

Brock makes his way up to that now bitten-red mouth, covering it with a soft kiss. Jefferson’s still panting, chasing his breath, but kisses back nonetheless, his hand seeking out Brock’s to intertwine their fingers.

“You really weren’t kidding,” Brock murmurs, and Jefferson laughs breathlessly. “Did you know you could come from just that?”

“Not for sure,” Jefferson shrugs. “But I suspected…”

“So I got to be your guinea pig?” Brock smirks. Jefferson grins right back.

“And you turned out to be a pretty good one, too.”

Brock snorts, stealing another kiss from his mate’s lips, which Jefferson happily returns, until he groans unpleasantly, squirming and looking down between them.

“Probably ruined my underwear,” he mutters. Brock shrugs.

“There are worse ways to go.” 

Jefferson laughs, relaxing into the pillows with a sigh while Brock sits up, unclipping his garter belt so he can slip the panties down Jefferson’s legs. He goes to pull the stockings down as well, but Jefferson’s hand stops him.

“No,” he says. “Leave them on.”

Brock raises an eyebrow but obediently clips the stockings back into place, smoothing his hands along Jefferson’s thighs as he pauses yet again to admire his mate. Jefferson tips his head with a lazy sigh, allowing himself to be admired.

“You know, I just thought of something,” he murmurs.

“Did you?” 

Jefferson nods, a soft smile caressing his lips. “It’s been almost exactly a year since you showed up on my doorstep wanting your jacket back.”

Surprise has Brock falling silent for a moment, but soon enough, he nods. “I guess it has,” he sighs. His hands wander up and down Jefferson’s thighs again as memories of that night whisk through his mind. How anxious he’d been, how close he’d been to falling apart at just the sight of Jefferson’s tear-stained face… He sighs again, resting his head on Jefferson’s knees. “I don’t know what I was so afraid of.”

“The unknown?” Jefferson offers, and Brock laughs.

“Guess that sums it up pretty well.” He shakes his head, looking up at Jefferson again. Warmth in his chest bubbles out as a chuckle, putting a smile on his mate’s face. “Hell of a year.”

“Hell of a year,” Jefferson repeats, giggling softly. Brock can feel a lopsided grin curling on his face; a grin that widens when Jefferson reaches out for him. “C’mere…” 

Brock catches those searching hands in his own, pressing light kisses to each knuckle as he slips between Jefferson’s legs. The omega arches up to press against him, graceful arms wrapping around his body to keep him close. Soft lips part to welcome him in, and hands stroke up and down his back, until he can’t help but groan. He feels Jefferson grin at the sound, and silky legs wrap around his waist almost immediately.

“So does that mean you’re not quite finished with me yet?” Brock chuckles.

“Well it didn’t seem like you were quite finished with me, either,” Jefferson replies. Brock isn’t about to argue with that, nipping Jefferson’s lip in place of a verbal response. Jefferson giggles, and Brock sees his gaze wander off to the side. His arms extends out soon after, plucking up the discarded rose. The long, slender stem twirls between his fingers as he looks back at Brock, who can’t help but shiver when the flower weaves a coy path up his back. “So what do you say to a little more fun?”

Brock grins, but when he tries to lean in for a kiss, he finds his path blocked by sweet-scented petals. Jefferson’s eyes glint at him from just behind the blossom separating them, and there’s a mischievous spark when Brock presses his kiss to the rose instead.

“Bring it on, beautiful.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave a comment and tell me what you thought, I love hearing from you guys!!


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And after three whole months I finally return with…something at least XD I know this is shorter than usual, but I wanted to get this up as quick as possible, so you can pretty much consider it a part 1. Part 2 will follow in the next few days, but for now, I hope you enjoy!

“And there’s your little one.”

A lopsided grin spreads across Brock’s face when Wanda freezes the ultrasound on an image of their baby. It’s grainy and only in black and white, but it still takes his breath away. Jefferson’s too, if the little gasp he hears is any indication.

“He’s beautiful,” Jefferson whispers, beaming when Brock looks down at him. Brock nods in agreement, running his fingers through Jefferson’s hair. They’re both on the couch in Wanda’s office, Jefferson’s head in Brock’s lap.

“He?” Wanda repeats, smiling at Jefferson. “You think it’s a boy?”

Jefferson shrugs. “Just a feeling.”

“Would you like me to confirm one way or another?” 

Jefferson hesitates, biting his lip and glancing up at Brock. Brock just shrugs, wrapping one of Jefferson’s curls loosely around his finger.

“If you want,” he says. “I can wait to be surprised.”

“Me too,” Jefferson nods, smiling as he tips his head back toward Wanda. “We don’t need to know for sure.”

“Whatever you prefer,” Wanda nods, returning her attention back to the screen and adjusting the probe on Jefferson’s belly. Brock chuckles when their baby’s feet appear on the screen, kicking back and forth. “Have you been feeling movement?”

“All the time,” Jefferson says. “He keeps me awake at night.”

“That’s pretty common,” Wanda smiles. “Babies can’t always tell when they’re meant to be sleeping.”

Jefferson nods, sighing softly as he gazes at the display. There’s a certain way his eyes glow for their baby that’s Brock’s never seen on him before, but he swears he falls more hopelessly in love every time he sees it. 

“Brock’s jealous,” Jefferson adds after a moment. “He hasn’t been able to feel any of the kicks yet.”

Brock rolls his eyes, but can’t deny that it’s true. He’s always sneaking his hand onto Jefferson’s belly whenever he gets the chance, often under the pretext of soothing their fussy baby. He tries to brush off his disappointment at not being able to feel anything, but of course Jefferson knows anyway.

“Unfortunately, that’s common too,” Wanda replies. “Your baby is still small at this stage. As he grows and shifts position, it will be easier to feel his movements.”

“He?” Brock repeats, smirking. Wanda casts a glance at him, a Mona Lisa smile gracing her lips.

“I’m only going along with what your mate said,” she smiles. “I won’t confirm or deny anything.”

Brock laughs, looking down at Jefferson again when he hears the omega giggle. Jefferson’s looking up at him with stars in his grey-blue eyes, and for the second time that day, Brock finds himself breathless. 

Once the exam is over, Wanda prints them out a photo of their baby, which Jefferson cradles close as he tucks himself against Brock’s side. 

“It seems you’ve got a healthy, growing baby,” Wanda tells them, tucking her shawl around her shoulders. Brock recognizes it as the same festive red one Jefferson had been showing her when they’d first met. “You’re right on track for your June delivery.”

“Good to hear,” Brock nods, glancing at Jefferson, who smiles back.

“I can’t believe we’re already at the halfway point,” he sighs. “Seems like we just found out yesterday.”

“No kidding,” Brock murmurs. Every time he blinks it seems like they’re at another milestone or another appointment. But he’ll happily settle for the time rushing by when Jefferson seems to glow more and more with every new change in his body.

“Are you feeling prepared?” Wanda asks. Brock and Jefferson share a look, and Jefferson nods slowly after a moment.

“We’re doing our best to be,” he sighs, shrugging one shoulder. “We’ve almost got the nursery completely set up, and I’ve been getting some books to read…”

“‘Some’ is the understatement of the century,” Brock laughs. Seems like almost every day he finds a new book on the nightstand or coffee table with pages bookmarked and highlighted. Brock does his best to keep up, but he hasn’t done this much reading in…perhaps ever. 

Jefferson pouts, elbowing him in the ribs with a little whine, but all is forgiven when Brock nuzzles into Jefferson’s neck, soft curls tickling his face as he drowns himself in Jefferson’s milk and honey scent. It’s all he can do not to nip Jefferson’s skin, just for one teasing taste of his mate’s new sweetness. 

“Well, try not to overwhelm yourself,” Wanda says, that faint smile back on her face when Brock reluctantly turns back to face her. “It’s good to be informed, but knowing every little thing that can go wrong will only make you anxious.”

“I know,” Jefferson groans, running his hand through his hair. “I just want to be ready.”

“Being completely ready is really a myth,” Wanda shrugs. “It’s ok to not know everything, or to figure things out along the way. Make sure you let yourself relax and be happy, too.”

“That’s exactly what I’ve been trying to tell him,” Brock smirks, nudging his nose just under Jefferson’s ear. Jefferson lets out an exasperated sigh, but his squirming is half-hearted until he finally melts into Brock’s arms.

“I know, I know…” he replies. Brock just laughs, pressing his lips to Jefferson’s neck. Wanda waits for them to settle yet again, though her smile is just the slightest bit brighter now.

“Other than that, I think we’re done for the day,” she says. “Shall we plan for the same day next month?”

“Sure,” Jefferson nods, glancing at Brock, who agrees. He reaches down for Jefferson’s bag, while Jefferson returns his attention to Wanda. “Do you mind if I use your bathroom?”

“Not at all.” Wanda points Jefferson in the right direction and Jefferson carefully hands the ultrasound photo to Brock, who cradles it with all the care in the world. He finds himself smiling even as Jefferson leaves his side, caught up once again in the tiny hands and soft profile of their growing baby.

“I’m surprised the two of you can ever manage to be away from each other.”

“Hm?” Brock hums, snapping out of his daze when he sees Wanda smiling at him. “Oh uh…” he falters. “Yeah, sorry, I know we can be a little over the top in public…”

“It’s quite alright,” Wanda says. “It’s always nice to see a partner who’s loving and supportive, since I know how badly those qualities are needed during labor.”

“Right,” Brock nods, his voice coming out more clipped than he’d intended. Labor…it’s a thought he’s been avoiding for a while now. A sigh escapes him as he looks down at the ultrasound photo again. He may know that it’s all worth it in the end, but…

“Does that make you nervous?” Wanda asks, clarifying when Brock frowns. “The idea of Jefferson being in labor?”

“Oh…” He shrugs at first, hesitant, but finds his voice soon enough. Surely it’s nothing Wanda hasn’t heard before. “Yeah, I guess…I mean, I know stuff can go wrong…”

“Yes,” Wanda agrees. Brock swallows the rising bitterness of anxiety. “But Jefferson’s a very low risk pregnancy, so I wouldn’t spend too much time worrying about that.”

“I know,” Brock sighs. He pauses again, and Wanda just waits patiently. “I just don’t like seeing him in pain, you know? But there’s nothing I can do to stop it…” Wanda nods and Brock finds himself shrugging reflexively. “I don’t know,” he mutters. “Guess there’s no use worryin’ about something I can’t help.”

“Well, I wouldn’t say that you can’t help at all,” Wanda replies. Brock frowns again, but Wanda just smiles. “Your role is to help him deal with what he’s going through. To distract him and help him work through his pain. That’s a very important part to play.”

Brock chews his lip as Wanda’s words settle over him. It’s nothing he doesn’t already know, nothing he wouldn’t do instinctively if Jefferson needed him to, but the weight of responsibility is still a hell of a lot to bear.

“It will be hard, but you’ll both come out better for it,” Wanda adds. “I’ve heard some mated couples say that labor was almost as intense as their bonding.”

Brock chuckles weakly. “Well, when you put it that way…”

Wanda laughs softly as she stands and Brock leans back against the couch, his thumb passing over the faint outline of their baby’s nose. Jefferson’s nose, he thinks with a grin. 

Wanda’s movement catches his eyes as she circles the small office, first raising the lights to their standard brightness, then beginning to tuck her equipment back into order. She almost seems to float, her shawl and loose skirt fluttering around her, her dark auburn hair flowing to frame her face.

“If you don’t mind me asking,” he starts. Wanda glances over her shoulder at him, raising an eyebrow as she waits. “How did you get into this line of work? Kinda unusual for an alpha…”

He trails off when Wanda chuckles and shakes her head. “I suppose Jefferson is the tactful one between the two of you,” she responds. Despite the hint of teasing in her voice, Brock winces when his own words echo back to him.

“Sorry,” he mutters, rubbing the back of his neck. “My bad.”

Wanda dismisses his apology with a graceful wave of her hand. “It’s alright,” she says. “It’s actually a family business of sorts. Omegas in my family have been doing this for generations. Everyone thought my brother would take over next, but he’s always been more adventurous than I am.”

“You’ve got a brother?” 

Wanda nods, gesturing to a picture on her desk of herself with a young man, taller than her, but with the same pale eyes, rich with depth. “He’s back in our home country now, trying to help our people recover from the wars,” she sighs. Sadness colors her eyes, and at first, all Brock can do is nod wordlessly.

“D’you worry about him?” he finally asks. Wanda sighs again, turning her sad eyes to meet Brock’s gaze, and he knows the answer without her having to say a word. 

“Every day,” she murmurs. The moment lingers, the air cool and heavy as Wanda casts her gaze back to the photo. But soon enough, she shakes her head, and the air lightens once again with her simple smile. “But I suppose there’s only so much you can do to protect the people you love.”

Brock nods, a sigh of his own escaping him. “Guess you’re right,” is the best reply he can manage. If only he’d learned that lesson so quickly on his own, he could have saved himself a lot of heartache.

It’s silent for the few moments until Jefferson peeks his head back in, apologizing for taking so long. Brock just puts on a smile and kisses those apologies from his lips, and they say goodbye to Wanda before heading out. 

Jefferson holds their ultrasound photo while Brock drives, and it’s not long before Brock’s hand finds its way over to Jefferson’s.

“Doing ok?” he asks, rubbing his thumb over Jefferson’s fingers.

“Yeah,” Jefferson sighs. “How about you?”

Brock looks over to be met with a little furrow in Jefferson’s brow. “Why do you ask?”

Jefferson shrugs. “You just had a funny look on your face when I came back from the bathroom.”

“Oh.” Brock’s tongue runs over his lips as he hesitates. “Just lost in thought, I guess.”

There’s a pause, and for a moment Brock expects to be called out on his half-truth, but then Jefferson presses a kiss to his hand, and Brock can feel a smile on his lips.

“Ok,” he murmurs. 

As soon as they’re stopped at a red light, Brock’s leaning over for a real kiss.

******

Brock makes sure Jefferson’s tucked into bed before he leaves for his shift that evening. Jefferson whines about being fussed over, but puts up little fight once Brock cups his face and kisses him goodbye. 

“Try to sleep, ok?” Brock murmurs. Jefferson sighs, his hands hanging from Brock’s jacket. 

“I’ll do my best,” he replies, glancing down towards his belly. “I don’t know if he’s gonna let me.”

“Well if he doesn’t, I’ll give him a talking to once I get back,” Brock grins. Jefferson giggles, tugging Brock back down for another kiss.

“I’ll hold you to it,” he says. “Now go on, you’re gonna be late.”

“Ok, ok…” Brock rests his forehead against Jefferson’s for one moment longer before finally pulling away, Jefferson’s hands falling into his and then down to the bed.

It’s late when he returns, and he’s still shuddering from the cold February air even once he’s heading down the hall to their bedroom. He sighs when he sees the bedside lamp is still on, unsurprised when he rounds the corner and finds Jefferson sitting up in bed, his hands wrapped around his belly as he stares off into space. He wishes he could say this is the first time he’s caught Jefferson like this recently.

“Hey, beautiful,” he murmurs. Jefferson startles, but his gaze almost immediately softens when he sees Brock in the doorway.

“Hi,” he says, holding his hands out for Brock as the alpha walks closer, easing down on the edge of the bed and into Jefferson’s arms.

“Thought you were gonna try and sleep?” Brock sighs. 

“Believe me, it’s not for lack of trying,” Jefferson mutters. Brock nods, resting his hand on Jefferson’s belly.

“Is he givin’ you a hard time?” he asks.

“He is your kid after all,” Jefferson smiles, grunting under his breath as he shifts against the pillows stacked against his back. “Feels like he’s doing backflips off my spine…”

“Well we can’t have that,” Brock murmurs. He runs his hand down, and then back up the curve of Jefferson’s belly, smiling at how the omega’s navel has begun to poke out. “Maybe I need to have that little chat with him after all.”

Jefferson laughs softly, his eyes gleaming when he leans forward to brush his nose against Brock’s. “I’m open to anything.”

Brock grins, placing a kiss against soft lips. He crawls across Jefferson so he can lay across the bed, his face level with Jefferson’s belly. When Brock pushes up his shirt and starts rubbing in slow circles, the peaceful sound of Jefferson’s breath settles in the warm air.

“Hey little fella,” Brock says, pressing his lips to Jefferson’s belly. Jefferson giggles, and Brock smiles when he feels a gentle hand in his hair. He trails kisses up to Jefferson’s navel and nuzzles into his skin. “You gotta go easy on your mama, ok? He loves you so much, but it’s getting really late, and he needs to sleep.”

He still doesn’t feel anything as he rests his cheek against Jefferson’s skin, but when he closes his eyes for a moment, he swears he can almost hear that little heartbeat.

“So I’m ‘mama’, now?”

Brock glances up, shrugging one shoulder. “Unless there’s something else you want him to call you?”

“No, I like ‘mama’,” Jefferson smiles. “Just wasn’t expecting it.”

“Well you need to start getting used to it sometime,” Brock chuckles. “He’s gonna be here before you know it.”

“And yet I still wish it could be sooner.” 

“I know,” Brock grins in response. “So, is he doing any better?”

“Yeah,” Jefferson nods. “I think he likes hearing your voice.”

Brock grins, nuzzling Jefferson’s belly again. “Is that true, little guy?” he murmurs. “I’ve just gotta keep talking all night to keep you entertained?”

“Oh god, would you?” Jefferson groans, and Brock laughs, shifting back up to steal a kiss from his mate. Jefferson’s hands run through his hair, their noses brushing together as Brock leans away. One hand stays on Jefferson’s belly, and the other works its way behind Jefferson’s back as the omega shifts onto his side, curling into Brock’s arms

“I love hearing you talk to him,” Jefferson whispers.

“I know you do,” Brock nods. He lets his eyes close when Jefferson leans against his shoulder, his hair tickling Brock’s nose. It’s not long before dark greys and and dull blues are swirling behind his eyes, thick like storm clouds and deep like the ocean.

He sighs, opening his eyes as unpleasantness curls in his stomach. He’s been seeing those colors and images in Jefferson’s dreams for a while now, always with a heaviness pressing down on his chest. Sometimes, it’s even woken him up, and each time, he’s pulled Jefferson closer only to find him already awake, with a throwaway excuse to make sure Brock doesn’t worry.

“He’s not the only thing keeping you up, is he?” 

At first, all he’s met with is a long sigh, though Jefferson does curl closer to him. Brock hugs him tightly, nosing into his hair as he waits.

“No,” Jefferson admits, his voice soft and timid. Brock nods slowly, hesitating before pressing for more.

“What’s going on, baby?”

Jefferson shrugs weakly, clearly unwilling to talk. Brock sighs, letting his hand wander up and down Jefferson’s side, tracing little circles.

“Valentine’s Day is coming up,” he tries, his heart sinking when Jefferson’s whole body tenses. He’s had his suspicions for a while… “Any idea what we might do?”

Jefferson sighs, ducking his head down. “Is that your way of asking me if that’s the problem?”

“I guess so,” Brock nods. He hadn’t really expected to get away with being backhanded about it. Jefferson doesn’t respond. “Baby, please talk to me. I’m worried about you.”

Jefferson groans softly, pressing his face into Brock chest. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. Brock just shakes his head. “It’s just…”

He trails off, and Brock leans down, brushing his lips against Jefferson’s bondmark so their connection shimmers, safe and warm. Jefferson melts into him, gripping his shirt. 

“Whatever it is, I can handle it, I promise,” Brock murmurs.

“I know,” Jefferson whines. “It’s not you…I just…” He hesitates again, a little tremor passing through him. “I-I just don’t know if I should go this year…”

“Why wouldn’t you?” The question rushes out of Brock before he has time to think, and he regrets it instantly when Jefferson flinches. 

“I don’t know!” Jefferson retorts. His forehead creases as his hands rest over his belly. He still has yet to meet Brock’s gaze. “I guess it’s just…we have our baby now…” he whispers. “I thought…maybe it wouldn’t be right to go anymore. That I should just let it go…”

It takes Brock a few seconds to realize he’s holding his breath, and when he does, it tumbles out of him in a clumsy rush. He bites his tongue to stop himself from blurting out the first thing that comes into his head, not that there’s much of anything there right now. Just static, puzzle pieces that won’t come together. 

He draws in a slow breath, holding it for a few seconds once again. Jefferson’s leaned away now, his hands clasped tightly over his belly. 

“I don’t…” Brock starts, faltering when Jefferson looks at him. He’s in danger of drowning in those eyes. “I…you mean it?”

It’s far from the perfect response, but Jefferson’s weak shrug and avoidant eyes are the answer he needs. No, he doesn’t mean it. He never could.

“W-well…” Jefferson stutters. “D-don’t you think that would be better for me to not go? I’ve been doing it for so long…and there’s no real point—”

“You know that’s not true.”

Jefferson bites down on his lip, hard enough that Brock’s surprised he doesn’t draw blood, and he’s quick to cup his mate’s face and run his thumb over his lips gently. Jefferson’s mouth opens for a little kiss of breath, but there’s wetness clinging to his eyelashes now, and he whimpers softly when Brock’s lips brush his cheek. Before Brock knows it, he’s got his arms full of Jefferson, who’s clinging to him like his life depends on it, little hitching breaths—half-realized sobs—muffled by his shoulder.

“I’m s-sorry,” Jefferson whispers, his voice breaking. “I’m sorry, I—”

“It’s ok,” Brock whispers, even though he knows it’s not. Not when Jefferson’s carving a hole into his stomach. Guilt, he realizes, and holds Jefferson tighter as soon as he does. “Our baby isn’t a replacement for your daughter, you know that right?”

“Of course I do!” Jefferson cries. That jagged cavern of guilt turns to a whirlpool, tossing and twisting. Brock forces himself to breathe, to stay afloat for both of them.

“You know if I thought you really didn’t want to go, I wouldn’t argue with you about it,” he murmurs. Jefferson nods, sniffling weakly. “But I know you want to.” He pauses, stroking Jefferson’s back slowly as he feels his breaths begin to even out. “You don’t have to give up one baby for another, ok?”

“Ok.” Jefferson barely manages to squeak out his response, but Brock still finds himself smiling when Jefferson holds him tighter. “Thank you.”

Brock shakes his head. “Don’t gotta thank me.”

“Yes I do.” Jefferson leans away, his hands moving up to cup Brock’s face. “I don’t know why I ever avoid talking to you about anything,” he whispers, a little smile crossing his face. “You always make it better.”

“Well I try, at least,” Brock shrugs, giving a lopsided grin when Jefferson nods. “Just don’t like seeing you unhappy, beautiful.”

“I know,” Jefferson sighs. His hands slide down to Brock’s, intertwining their fingers. Brock’s about to lean in for a kiss, when Jefferson fixes him with a shy, but determined look. “Can you be honest me me about something, too?”

Brock swallows thickly, but nods. “Yeah, of course.”

Jefferson nods in return, his tongue peeking out to run over his lips. “Tell me what you were thinking about today in Wanda’s office. I know something wasn’t right.”

Brock can hardly be surprised, but shakes his head as he relaxes back against the headboard. “Still stuck on that, huh?”

Jefferson shifts closer, nestling himself against Brock. “I don’t like seeing you upset either.”

Brock chuckles softly, sliding his arm around Jefferson’s waist. Fair is fair after all. “Wanda was just telling me about her brother,” he says, and Jefferson’s eyes widen at once. “I guess it just got to me a little bit.”

“Oh…” Jefferson whispers. 

“Yeah,” Brock sighs. He presses a kiss to Jefferson’s forehead, smiling when he feels the little furrow in the omega’s brow smooth out. “Sorry I didn’t tell you.”

“It’s ok,” Jefferson shrugs. “You feel better now?”

“Yeah,” Brock repeats. “Every now and then I run into something that reminds me of him, I’ve kinda gotten used to letting it roll off my back.”

Jefferson looks at him with sad eyes and a smile that’s only half there, but Brock doesn’t have time to question it before he’s being gently kissed, Jefferson’s lips soft and sweet against his.

“I think I can sleep now,” he whispers. “Our baby has finally stopped kicking me.”

“Good,” Brock smiles, resting his hand on Jefferson’s belly for a brief moment. Just like he had before leaving, he tucks Jefferson under their quilt and makes sure he has all the pillows he could possibly want arranged around him. This time, Jefferson doesn’t argue, just looks up at Brock with shimmering eyes.

“Thank you,” he murmurs once again.

“Don’t worry about it, beautiful,” Brock shrugs. He runs his fingers through Jefferson’s hair, smiling softly. “So we’ve got a date for February 14th, right?” 

Jefferson nods, his eyes fluttering shut with Brock leans down to kiss him.

“You gonna be ok?” Brock asks.

“Yeah,” Jefferson replies. “So long as you’re there with me.”

Brock grins. “Wouldn’t dream of being anywhere else, beautiful.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Drop me a review if you enjoyed!


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *flings this down and runs away* ENJOY THE FEELINGS

Brock can’t help but feel nostalgia once they’re seated in the little cafe that was home to their first true meeting. He still remembers what Jefferson looked like as if it were yesterday, curled in an armchair, bundled up with his tea held close to his chest. He hadn’t quite realized it at the time, having very little for reference, but looking back, he can see the sadness that had hovered around Jefferson, reflected in downcast eyes, chopped short hair, and bitten down nails. 

He doesn’t bite his nails anymore. He paints them instead, says it helps him resist the urge because he doesn’t want to ruin what he worked so hard on. They’re a gentle pink today, the first color Brock bought for him, and the same color as the hair tie he’s managed to wrangle his mane into today. A few tendrils have escaped by now, hanging around his face for him to wrap his finger around and tug on every so often. 

But the downcast eyes are here again today, along with a funny curl of his mouth every time he pulls his lip between his teeth. Brock sighs softly each time he does it, and Jefferson always hears him and lifts his head for a faint smile that doesn’t reach his eyes.

“You gonna be ok?” Brock finally asks. They’d made little effort at talking while they ate their breakfast, both lost in thought. Jefferson’s head picks up yet again, and he shrugs.

“I guess,” he says, his fingers tangling in a few loose strands of hair. “I’m sorry, I know I’m not really saying anything…”

“It’s ok,” Brock shrugs. Jefferson smiles softly again, and Brock reaches out for his fidgety hand, running his thumb over the gems in Jefferson’s ring. “Ready to go?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Jefferson sighs.

They get refills on their drinks, something to keep their hands warm as they walk. Brock keeps one arm around Jefferson’s waist, holding Jefferson just the slightest bit tighter whenever they cross a patch of ground that looks especially slippery. Jefferson doesn’t seem to mind, just leans his head against Brock’s shoulder and lets himself be held.

Nostalgia turns to déjà vu as they get closer to the park garden. Just like the year before, a cloud comes over Jefferson, and his steps get slower, almost reluctant. He finally stops when they’re right outside the artful spiral of stones, turning and grasping Brock’s hands.

“Can we sit down?” he whispers, nodding to a nearby bench. 

“Course,” Brock nods, squeezing Jefferson’s hands when he feels them tremble. “You sure you’re ok?”

“Yeah,” Jefferson replies, but there’s a squeak in his voice that makes his words hard to believe. Brock’s skepticism must reach his face, because Jefferson very quickly gives up the ruse. “I-I just need a minute, ok?”

“Ok,” Brock says. 

He expects to find Jefferson in his arms again as soon as they’ve sat down, but is surprised when Jefferson shifts away from him and pulls his bag into his lap. Brock had noticed the bag was more full than usual that morning, but Jefferson had brushed him off when he’d offered to carry it. He’s clinging to it now, pressing against him like he’s worried it might disappear.

Minutes tick by while Jefferson’s fingers skate across the embroidered patterns on the dark green fabric. He makes a full loop of the bright flower that covers the flap before he pops the buttons on it open, and it’s still a few second after that when he finally pulls it back.

He produces a small lavender blanket, with a little white rabbit embroidered on one corner. Brock’s heart constricts when Jefferson holds the blanket to his chest and lowers his head so his lips brush against the soft fabric.

Brock own chest goes from tight to aching when he hears Jefferson’s breath hitch softly, and he reaches out on instinct. Jefferson flinches when Brock’s hand lands on his knee, but nods soon enough. Brock pulls him into his arms without hesitation, squeezing his eyes when Jefferson burrows close enough for Brock to feel teardrops fall against his neck.

“Sorry,” Jefferson whispers between sniffles. “I’m sorry, it’s silly–”

“No, it’s not.” Jefferson’s breath hitches, fading into a weak sob. “It’s not silly to love your baby, ok?”

Another sob, this one more painful, and Brock nuzzles into Jefferson’s hair, letting the world fade around them so he can nudge himself towards Jefferson’s mind, their bond humming between them.

The stormclouds in Jefferson’s mind warp and whip around them both, and Brock has to force himself not to immediately flinch away from the chaos immediately. Jefferson starts to shake in his arms and Brock strokes his back gently. He can’t leave his mate here, not in that ugly storm.

“You can talk out loud if you want,” he murmurs. Jefferson doesn’t respond at first, just whimpers softly. “It might help to get it out.”

“I-I wouldn’t know what to say,” Jefferson whispers.

“Just say anything.” Brock’s lips find Jefferson’s forehead and when he opens his eyes, he’s enfolded by the same bottomless gaze he’d fallen headfirst into the moment they met. “Better than just holding it all in, you know?”

Jefferson’s teary eyelashes flutter for a moment, and he draws in a slow breath as he looks down at the blanket again. His thumb passes over the embroidered rabbit, and Brock notices how the stitches are uneven. He finds himself wondering if it was inexperience, or emotion that made Jefferson’s hands unsteady.

“Hi, baby girl…”

Brock’s breath leaves him when he hears those words just barely manage to sneak past Jefferson’s lips. Jefferson’s still stroking the embroidered rabbit gently, his hands resting in his lap when they start to tremble. 

“I-I’ve got some big news for you,” he adds, his voice hardly even a whisper. “You’re gonna have a little sibling.” He bites his lip before giving in to a little smile. “I think it’s a boy, but we don’t know for sure. We–” 

His voice breaks off and he seems to shrink in Brock’s arms as he curls closer. For a moment, Brock can almost see the seventeen-year-old who’d had to make the painful decision he’s still hurting from years later.

“We’re gonna call him Cameron,” Jefferson continues. “We’re so…so excited to see him, and I really w-wish…” He hesitates again, his eyes squeezing shut when Brock’s pets his hair. “I really wish you could meet him too, baby girl. I-I think you’d have been a great big sister.”

Brock presses a kiss to the top of Jefferson’s head when he goes quiet, beginning to rock him back and forth. Jefferson shudders with a little sob, sniffling weakly. Minutes pass, chilly wind making Brock pull his mate closer, until there’s nothing but warmth between them. Warmth, and that little purple blanket that Jefferson’s hands are tangled in.

“I think you would love my mate too,” Jefferson murmurs. Brock smiles softly, kissing Jefferson’s forehead. “He’s so kind and gentle, and I love him more than anything. I couldn’t imagine having a family with anyone else.”

This time it’s Brock’s turn to feel a lump in his throat, and a quiver in his hands as he rests his cheek against the top of Jefferson’s head. Things would’ve been so different for them if Jefferson had kept Grace and raised her. And yet, he can’t imagine ever meeting Jefferson and not bringing him into his life, no matter what, or who, that came with.

“I would’ve loved her too,” he says. Jefferson chuckles, sniffling as he looks up at Brock. “I-It might’ve taken me a while, but I know I would’ve.”

“I believe you,” Jefferson replies. He brings his hand up to cup Brock’s cheek, and Brock smiles as he leans into that soft touch. “But thank you for saying it.”

Brock nods, Jefferson’s softly gloves tickling his lips when he kisses his mate’s palm. For one shining moment, Jefferson beams at him, until another wave of heartache comes over his face.

“Do you mind if I say a little more?”

“Course not.” How could he possibly say no to those galaxy-bright eyes? “This is all you baby, take whatever time you need.”

Jefferson nods, the corners of his eyes crinkling with his grateful smile, beautiful no matter how brief. He lowers his head, bringing the baby blanket up to his lips once more.

“I’m gonna tell Cameron about his big sister one day,” he says, his voice remaining strong. “I’m always gonna love you, baby girl, I promise. A-and…” 

The tremors return, but Jefferson takes in a harsh breath, like he’s forcing himself to keep going, despite how his voice is fighting him.

“And even though I wish more than anything that I could’ve gotten to meet you, I still think I made the right decision for us both.” He presses the baby blanket against his chest, letting out a trembling breath. “I just h-hope you can forgive me, my darling.”

There’s a finality to the words that moves through the air, a release as palpable as Jefferson leaning against Brock’s chest. Brock lets the silence linger, until the air settles around them like a fresh drift of snow. 

“I think she does forgive you,” he says. “If she’s anything like you, I know she does.”

Jefferson laughs seems to stick in his throat, but he nods nevertheless. “Thank you,” he whispers. “I try to believe that too.”

Quiet falls again, comfortable and warm. Brock watches powdery snow quiver on leaves and swirl through the air. It’s so quiet here, even though the road isn’t too far away. Like it’s their own little world that they could get lost in forever…

Brock shakes his head, sighing softly. If it’s anything, this place is Jefferson’s world. His own secret, hideaway realm that Brock’s just been fortunate enough to be allowed into.

“Do you think we’ll be ok at this?”

Brock frowns, glancing down at Jefferson. “What do you mean?” he asks.

“You know,” Jefferson shrugs. “Being parents.”

“Oh,” Brock mutters. Only that… “Yeah, I think we’ll be ok. I mean…” He falters. It’s not that he doesn’t believe it, he’s just never thought he’d need the words to say it. “I mean, we’re gonna love him. We already love him…” Jefferson’s whole face softens at those words, and Brock finds himself smiling. “That’s what’s most important, right? Making sure he’s happy and loved?”

“I guess so,” Jefferson nods. He looks down at his belly, rubbing his hand gently over it. “I just worry sometimes. It’s so much to take on.”

“Honestly, I’d be more concerned if you weren’t worried at all,” Brock chuckles. Jefferson laughs softly, his head resting on Brock’s shoulder. Brock nuzzles a kiss into Jefferson’s hair and adds. “It is a lot, but we just gotta take it little by little, you know?”

“Yeah,” Jefferson sighs. Brock feels him chuckle quietly as he burrows closer. “But I know you’re gonna be great.”

Brock shakes his head. At least Jefferson can be confident enough for them both. “I would’a said the same thing about you.”

“Really?”

Brock looks down to see Jefferson’s chin propped on his shoulder, big blue eyes gazing up at him and a pretty smile on pink lips. “Yeah,” he replies. “I mean, you’re the sweet one out of the two of us. Every who meets you loves you.” He shakes his head again and sighs. “Unlike my sorry ass…”

“What’s wrong with your sorry ass?” Jefferson cooes. Brock chuckles, brushing a kiss against the tip of Jefferson’s nose.

“I’m just not sweet and loving like you are,” he says. “Rougher around the edges, you know?”

“Maybe,” Jefferson says. His sweet smile broadens, just enough for his crooked teeth to peek out. “But I don’t think you give yourself enough credit.”

Brock tries to laugh it off, but Jefferson reaches out for his hand and insists with a gentle squeeze.

“I mean it,” he says, his voice softer yet still emphatic. “Sometimes I think you have so much love in you that you’re afraid of what would happen if you let it out.”

Words fail Brock at first, and even after a moment to catch his breath, all he can manage is a quiet scoff as he looks away. Thankfully, Jefferson doesn’t take it as a slight against him, and he chuckles as he nuzzles the tip of his nose against Brock’s cheek.

“Besides,” he murmurs. “You have experience already.”

“How do you mean?”

Brock’s brow furrows as he looks up at Jefferson, who has sad eyes once more.

“You know,” he sighs. “From taking care of your little brother.”

This time Brock’s scoff isn’t quiet, and he shakes his head as he looks away from Jefferson. “And look how well that turned out…”

“Brock.” There’s a scolding tone in Jefferson’s voice, but his hands are gentle as they cup Brock’s face, turning him back so they can face each other. 

“Sorry,” Brock sighs.

“It’s ok,” Jefferson says. “But this is what I mean when I say you should give yourself more credit. You were in an impossible situation, and you did the best you could.”

“I know,” Brock grunts. He does know. He’s always known that in his head, but it does very little to help the nauseating ache in his chest. He huffs, pulling away from Jefferson’s hands and dragging his hand down his face. “Sorry, this should be about you, not me.”

“It’s always about me,” Jefferson sighs. “Let it be about you for a little while.”

Brock sighs, leaning back against the bench and someone finding the courage to meet Jefferson’s gaze. “I don’t know what to say…”

“Neither did I, remember?” Jefferson smiles. Brock manages to laugh, and doesn’t fight it when Jefferson’s fingers thread between his own. But the moment of levity is short-lived, and so is the bright glow in Jefferson’s eyes. “Do you feel guilty for what happened to Aiden?”

Brock barks a hollow laugh. Straight to the heart of it, as ever… It’s all the answer Jefferson needs, and Brock closes his eyes, fighting off the burn that’s starts as soon as he feels Jefferson’s cheek rest against his shoulder.

“Do you think he would want you to feel that way?”

Another cold laugh, this one mostly breath. Brock feels himself deflate as Jefferson’s thumb strokes over the back of his hand. “No,” he mumbles. Of course he wouldn’t. Brock’s always known that too. Aiden used to say it every time he’d mutter to himself about how he should’ve been faster or more careful or better at guessing what their father would want next. He’d say it wasn’t Brock’s fault, that it was ok, that he still loved him…until he hadn’t been able to say anything any more…

Jefferson’s moving his hand now. Brock feels it rest in the omega’s lap, and when he glances down, he sees Jefferson pressing that velvety blanket into his palm, until he closes his grip around it on instinct.

“If you could say anything to him,” Jefferson whispers, “anything at all, for one last time, what would it be?”

Brock’s throat constricts around his own breath, his shoulders hunching as he bites down on his tongue. And yet when he looks at Jefferson, so full of life even when he’s hurting, simply waiting with a patient smile, he finds his chest opening. It’s comical, really, how quickly his mate can melt away walls that Brock’s spent so many years building.

“I’d say that I’m sorry,” he mumbles. Jefferson’s smile broadens, as soon it’s as if there’s light beaming out of every part of him. Brock leans closer without thinking, until Jefferson’s arms are around him. A moth to his mate’s flame. “I’d tell him I love ‘im…” he continues, his words nearly lost in Jefferson’s shoulder. The omega nods all the same, and a gloved hand cards through Brock’s hair, drawing the last few words out of him. “And that I hope to god he forgives me.”

The words are sour and the tears in his eyes are bitter, but Jefferson’s soft humming is sweet enough that nothing else matters. Brock falls into it, holding Jefferson tightly as he’s held in return.

“I guess we both had something to get off our chests today,” Jefferson says. Brock’s laugh is real this time. Warm, if stifled by the lump still in his throat.

“Guess so.”

Jefferson’s lips are pursed in a smile when he brushes them against Brock’s forehead. A smile which turns out to be contagious when Brock raises his head for a kiss. Their noses brush together, warm against each other despite the cool winter air, and Brock sighs as he’s enveloped once again by his mate’s gaze.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” he murmurs. Jefferson giggles, nudging forward so their foreheads can rest together.

“If it makes you feel any better, I don’t know what I’d do without you either,” he replies.

Brock shakes his head, gathering Jefferson into another lingering kiss that has comforting warmth seeping through them both. And even once their kiss breaks for breath, that glow stays, a protective halo around them both.

It’s not long before Brock can’t resist slipping under Jefferson’s sweater to rest against his belly. Jefferson smiles as he does it, tucking his head under Brock’s chin. Moments pass, lost in silent peace, until Brock feels a little flutter against the palm of his hand.

He frowns, looking down when Jefferson groans under his breath. “Looks like our little one is finally waking up,” he murmurs. Brock goes still when another flutter kisses his hand, and Jefferson sighs softly, shifting in Brock’s arms.

“Is…” he starts, his voice faltering when Jefferson looks up at him.

“Yes?” Jefferson asks. Brock’s about to try again when he feels yet another flutter against his hand, and this time he looks down, rubbing softly over the spot where he’d felt the gentle touch.

“Is that him?”

There’s a flash of confusion on Jefferson’s face before his eyes widen and a brilliant smile takes over. 

“Yes,” he replies, sounding breathless. “Yes, that’s him kicking.” 

Brock feels just as breathless as he looks down again, a smile of his own breaking out across his face. “Well hey there, little guy,” he murmurs, and as if in response, their baby kicks again.

“You can really feel him?” 

“Yeah,” Brock nods. He raises his head, chuckling when he finds Jefferson teary-eyed. “Guess that’s not your little secret anymore.”

“That’s ok,” Jefferson says, giggling as his hand covers Brock’s. “I’m happy to share.”

Brock grins, stealing a kiss from Jefferson’s lips before Cameron distracts them both once again. Jefferson moves his hand across his belly, sighing softly.

“Are you giving your daddy a birthday present, my darling?” he coos. 

“Daddy?” Brock repeats, still grinning. Jefferson shrugs.

“If you like,” he says.

“I think I do,” Brock nods in return. It’s quiet for a moment before they both break into laughter again, that’s quickly muffled by a deep kiss. “Ti amo,” Brock says when he pulls away. Jefferson beams at him, and Brock’s about to lean in for another kiss when he’s reminded of the little one between them by another kick.

“Can’t leave him out,” Jefferson says. Brock shakes his head, laughing as he rubs Jefferson’s belly.

“E ti amo anchio,” he murmurs and smiles when a word of nostalgia floats onto his tongue, “passerotto.” 

Jefferson’s curiosity is immediately palpable, but he waits until Brock looks back up at him before asking: “What does that mean?”

“Sparrow,” Brock replies, the answer ready and waiting even after all this time. “Little sparrow, actually.”

Jefferson nods. “Passerotto,” he repeats, his pronunciation nearly perfect. “It’s beautiful.”

Brock smiles back, shifting his hand with their baby’s movement, chasing the feeling of those little kicks. “My mom used to call me that, I think,” he sighs. Jefferson’s lips are quick to kiss any hints of sadness away.

“Then that makes it even more beautiful.”

Brock just nods, words failing him as he feels Cameron shift and kick. No wonder he’s been keeping Jefferson awake, he thinks with a grin.

But Jefferson’s not complaining, and seems more than content to let Brock hold him and feel their baby move. He just cups his hand under his belly, the lavender baby blanket still clutched in his fingers while his thumb moves gently back and forth.

“I think you’re right,” he finally murmurs. Brock knows what’s coming before Jefferson even says it, contentedness radiating from every part of him. “I think we are gonna be ok.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave me a comment if you liked!!!

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on tumblr at moonsofavalon.tumblr.com


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